Dam leaned on Maggie’s stall, mimicking the posture of a more assured person, a more comfortable person. The MDMA mixed with his usual stimulant to actually make him feel it – usually he reserved that for high pressure social engagements with lots of people. The market was anything but high pressure, he went there several times a week, but the reality of situation didn’t do shit to dull the feeling, so Molly it was.
“Do we have any cinnamon?”
He asked without making eye contact. Molly actually laughed. He felt a drop of spittle strike his right earlobe and he flushed redder than the apple he was – very coolly and casually, he had thought – eating. He turned to face her.
“I know, but I mean something like cinnamon.”
As he said it, he set down his apple on her stall and fiddled for another disc to adjust his dose. He hoped his complexion masked his blushing, even in the stark light of Autumn (?).
“I know, I know what you meant, Dam. It’s just how you asked it.”
“It’s okay,” she added, glancing briefly at the disc as he clipped it to the feed on his belt. Like most people, Molly (oops I mean Maggie lol) Maggie didn’t dose, but gladly also didn’t feel the need to lecture him on the benefits of sobriety. That was why he came to her stall before, and after, completing his circuits at the market.
(( TODO Describe market “circuits” ))