"Man, it's been a crazy week," she sighs. She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a flask. She opens it, takes a swig.
"Okay, old-timey cowboy? Are you really just straight sipping on some whiskey right now?" he asks.
She opens her eyes real wide. She chews once. She chews again. There's something in her mouth.
"It's not whiskey," she says through sealed lips.
"Tell me that's not boba milk tea in a flask," he says.
"But it is. Mini boba to be exact."
"Why do you even have a flask?"
"It was a souvenir," she says. She takes another swig and chews, chews, chews.
"We all have our vices. Like I said, it's been a crazy week," she shakes her head, drowns out the world with a rush of sugar. Jasmine, matcha, tapioca, her friendly saviors. Always there for her. Never letting her down. Within this madness, in boba she trusts.