When you arrive at your friend’s apartment after texting her about your brutal rejection, she has the whole package waiting for you, from snacks to chick flicks to recreational drugs if you so choose. You plunge your broken heart into the bowl of pure whipped cream on the counter as the overdue tears arrive. She tries to lift your spirits by talking mad shit about your best friend (ex-best friend? You have no idea what will become of your friendship after the storm has passed). He’s a total sleaze, she says, and his gap toothed mouth would probably make kissing him really annoying. But you’ve always wanted to stick your tongue in the gap between his teeth, you sob back.

She offers you a joint and says today’s a good day to get faded. At the same time, you get a text from your cousin, who works as a bartender for a shoddy dive bar across town. He wants to thank you for convincing him to get tested for STIs last week. He says if you come while he’s working tonight you won’t be charged a dime and he’ll show you his test results. Go to (G) to smoke yourself out with your friend or go to (J) to drink your problems away.