Caitlin had run into her old teacher ten years back at a writer’s conference at the University of Southern California. Not only had they kept in touch since, she’d quoted him as a source in two articles: the first, a piece about veterans using art to overcome post-traumatic stress disorder; the second, only six months back, an argument in support of using marijuana to treat PTSD as well.

Scott reached into the lining of his hat and produced two hand-rolled joints. “As requested.”

Caitlin stashed one in her purse and pulled out her lighter. “You’re saving my life. Care to join me?”

Scott looked back toward the door. “Regrettably, I should run. Well before you let me know you’d be in town, I promised a lady friend a weekend at Lake Monroe. Said lady waits below.”

Caitlin shook her head. “Ah to be seventy and horny. Come on, professor. It could be another twenty years before I’m back here. Remind me how this thing works.”

He relented, took her lighter. “The things I do for my students.”

Caitlin watched the joint’s tip turn cherry-red.

Scott exhaled a cloud of pot smoke with a practiced sigh. “I caught your ceremony.”

“Yep, I’m a graduate now.” Caitlin took her turn, concentrated on the drug, not the reminder of her public admission. “This is great stuff.”

“Those in need will always find weed.” His palms bumped the railing, and a low, metallic tone escaped like a sigh. “I also caught the Q&A.”

Caitlin looked back out at campus. “I thought you had a hot date, Scott.”

“Not something you planned to talk about? Finishing that story?”

She groaned. “I don’t even know how the words got past my teeth. Not only were they unplanned, but I have no idea what the hell I meant. Just verbal vomit, as they say.”

He nodded. “You know, vomit is the body’s way of eliminating toxins.”

Caitlin genuinely liked the man, but this wasn’t the time. “Or staying pretty. Let’s not ruin a beautiful evening.”

“Fair enough. How long are you in town?”

Caitlin took another hit, already closer to calm. “Two days, then back home.”

“Alas, this must be the only moment we share.” He handed her a business card. “In the event your two-day trip evolves into something more, come by my office, and we’ll really get down.”

On one side, his name, phone number, and office address; on the other, three simple lines.

If you have the words,

write them down, speak them often.

Your words are your strength.

Haiku format, but none of the expected reflections of nature. Caitlin liked a writer who didn’t sweat the rules.

“This has truly been a pleasure, Scott.” She tapped out the joint, tucked it in her purse, and put on her game face. “But we mustn’t keep the ladies waiting.”

*   *   *