Jaden never asked for much—just his apartment, a small corner with a couch, and a sense of routine that brought comfort amidst the chaos of the city. His favorite time of day was the evening when the hustle of the streets faded away, and he could indulge in the ritual that grounded him.

He sat by the window, the soft glow of the setting sun reflecting off the glass. The kush was already rolled—he could smell it in the air as he reached for the lighter. With the flick of his thumb, the flame touched the tip of the joint, and the familiar warmth filled his chest. The high wasn't immediate; it came slowly, a creeping sensation that turned the world just a little bit softer.

His hand reached out for the cranberry juice beside him. It had become part of the ritual. The tart sweetness was a contrast to the smooth burn of the kush, a combination that felt like his secret, something no one else needed to understand. Jaden drank deeply, savoring the moment, as the city buzzed below him, oblivious to the peace he’d found in his little apartment.