A blunt with a side of donuts to be taken once nightly by mouth

Peter inhaled deeply and slowly let his breath out. He watched the smoke curl and drift slowly up towards the night sky briefly blocking his view of the starlit night sky. It was beautiful out here. He could see for miles from the roof over the Brooklyn landscape. The lights coming from different peoples apartment homes glowed warm and bright. They seemed to twinkle just like the stars in the sky. He found some comfort in knowing that most of the people of the city were tucked away safely in their homes. Some of them may be sitting in bars and having animated conversations over their drinks with friends or strangers. Some of them may be working the corner vying for the attention of men slowing down in their cars. Some of them were stumbling inebriated back to their homes wherever it might be. The city pulsed with a life of its own and he always found it disconcerting that when he took off his figurative hat at the end of the day ready to hang it up and close up the city continued to beat with life. He licked the powdered sugar off of his lips and sighed deeply. The blunt rested in his hands and he examined it closely. Why do people call it so many different names? They couldn’t agree on one? Blunt, Weed, Pot, Mary Jane, Roach… The last one made him squirm. He had seen plenty of cockroaches and the thought of putting one to his lips seemed very unappealing and downright gross. He giggled a little to himself and then moved on to examine his toe nails. The name of the color of nail polish he is sporting is called “Ruby Red ''. His mind drifted to his high school sweetheart who was named Ruby. She didn’t have red hair but she wore bright red lipstick and he remembered how they colored his lips when she covered them with hers. She left lipstick stains everywhere if you know what I mean. He smiled as the memories flooded over him and he stretched out on his back. The box of donuts that he had devoured was strewn next to him along with his blazer and tie. Every night after work he climbs up the fire escape to the top of the roof. He smokes a blunt, eats half a box to a full box of donuts and sometimes he paints his toe nails. He finds it soothing and it helps him decompress. It is also the only way he can sleep at night. When he was young he used to have night terrors. He would be found wandering his childhood home in the middle of the night appearing to be awake but dreaming. His parents had tried everything. They took him to doctors, therapists, and exorcists. They were not swayed by the medical science and did not pursue any actual medical treatment. Instead they thought he was being possessed by evil spirits due to bad behavior. They sent him away to religious camps and boarding schools. It was there that he met Frank. Frank introduced him to his new favorite past time “Mary Jane”. He chuckled again thinking of how his strict parents would shit a brick if they knew he was treating his sleep disorder with weed. Shit a brick! He laughed again mulling over the words in that phrase. Where do these phrases come from? he thought. He sat up and sounded out the words. He enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue. “SHHHHHHHIIIITT A B-B-BRICK” he doubled over in laughter. He took another drag from the blunt and tried to blow out little hoops with his mouth. He watched them become wider and drift over him like little halos retreating to the skies. He closed one eye to observe them and then switched to the other eye. The timer on his smartwatch went off and he frowned. It was time to go back inside. He was nearly finished with his smoke anyways. He was grateful he was outside and that there was a good breeze. It aired out the smoke and it didn’t cling to his clothes. When he stood he felt a little lightheaded and had to get his bearings. He picked up the evidence that was lying around him and dropped it into the trash box in the alley. “Bomb’s away!” he whispered and watched as an alley cat screeched and scurried away. “And it was a swish!” He yelled mimicking a sports announcer. With his hands cupped around his mouth he said “And the crowd goes wild! Ahhhhhhh!”. He took an exaggerated bow to his imaginary crowd and swayed a little on his feet. He shook off the silliness and practiced putting his serious face back on. He knew how to switch it on and off. He had perfected the look of indifference and neutrality. People found it very difficult to read him and he took pride in that. He gingerly dropped down to the fire escape and started climbing down the rungs to his apartment home. As he climbed down, he peeked into a few of the lit up apartment rooms from their window. One of them showed an old lady dressed in lingerie examining herself in the mirror. Her wrinkled skin and sagging breasts were a scarring sight to see. He cringed and sped down the ladder quickly. In the next apartment he saw a lesbian couple kissing passionately on their bed. He lingered and felt his dick getting hard as he imagined where they would take it from there. He adjusted himself a little and was ready to settle in to watch the show, but then he heard a woman’s voice calling up from below. It was his wife and she did not look pleased to see him snooping on his neighbors. “Do you know what time it is?” She said while glaring at him. She wrapped her robe tightly around her and retreated back into the apartment. He resumed his climb and stepped onto his balcony. He put on his “bored face” and stepped inside. “What were you doing?” She asked. She was sitting in bed and applying lotion to her arms and legs. “Uh, getting some fresh air” He said as he removed his watch. “Your secretary called. There is an urgent session scheduled into your morning tomorrow.” She said as she moved onto fluffing her pillow. He undressed and wiggled his toes. The red polish was barely noticeable in the cast of the dark shadow near the closet.. She wouldn’t notice anyways. She rarely noticed anything. He climbed into bed. “The guy sounds like a real nut-job” She mumbled sleepily. She turned her back towards him and snuggled into her side of the bed. “We don’t call them nut-jobs, dear. They are called patients.” He said back. He smiled to himself and licked the sugar from the corners of his mouth. He switched the light off and drifted off to sleep.