"Hey guys, got an extra I could buy off you?" I say. "I'm not the cops, honest. You bring good memories to mind."

They look at each other, one ambles away. But one stands up, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a joint. He hands it to me.

"What do I owe you?"

"You're good, man." He turns and sits back down on the step.

"Thanks," I say.