I liked that crowded bathroom we smoked in, you held a joint between my lips and asked me to exhale out the window into the soft wooden fence between us and the neighbor’s house. The walls of that crowded bathroom were pink or lilac or something – I liked them as you would expect, but I don’t exactly remember them. I remember my body feeling like too much because the space was small and I am not; my skin seemed to billow out like tulle to touch yours. Your dad gifted us two different joints he had been saving for a while, saying one was better than the other but he did not know which was which. In that crowded bathroom, I looked up at you and you looked down at me because we knew we had just found the better one. We kissed then walked out the door, saving half for later.