“The most messed up I’ve ever been was, god, years
ago,” I tell Ben during a lull between customers. “I was at a party, drinking tequila, and I smoked up. The party ended with me hiding under the kitchen table, scared because I knew
this guy I didn’t get along with was a wizard casting curses on me.”
“Isn’t it amazing how sometimes we need substances to show what’s really going on?” he deadpans.
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