Reggie Brown carefully ran his fingers over the blunt, admiring its tightly rolled perfection. It was almost a shame to smoke such a work of art.
He leaned back on the couch in his Kimball Hall dorm room at Stanford University as he discussed the weekend’s social events with two of his former fraternity brothers, David and Zach.
The subject of the conversation moved on to the girls. A dreamy expression appeared on Reggie’s face.
“I wish I could send disappearing photos,” he mused, almost absentmindedly.
David and Zach laughed and agreed that it would be useful if photos disappeared, then turned to who was coming to their party that weekend. Reggie withdrew. He was thinking.
Through the haze of smoke, David and Zach’s chatter faded. Reggie focused on…