Sitting cross-legged on her bed, I watch her take out her gear. Shes been smoking so much the room stinks of it. Over the last few weeks, Ive seen her do it so often Ive resisted the urge. Its surreal, like Im watching me from outside my body. My willpower is fragile at the best of times, but my resolve is always weaker in the evening.I feel a dread and a revulsion for what Im about to do, but theres a stronger feeling, an unutterable longing. I crack.Give us a line, I say.