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I whip out my phone on the streetcar and google How do you know if you’re high?

My screen fills with a list of symptoms.

A happy or relaxed feeling—Sure. Fine. I have been both of those things lately. But is that being high or just finally being a normally functioning human being?

Faster heart rate—I haven’t exactly taken my readings, but maybe I have had moments where I could feel my heart beat fast. Sitting on the couch texting Mackenzie. Kissing Mackenzie. Any time I am in the vicinity of Mackenzie. I’m suddenly conscious of the speed my heart has picked up these last few seconds. Am I just nervous, or is this the granola bar kicking in?

I read on.

Dry mouth. Shit.

Increased appetite. Shit.

Psychosis or seeing and hearing things that are not real.

I break out into a full-blown body sweat.

That has been happening to me.

That has been happening a lot.

My stop is called, but I am so preoccupied with my phone that I don’t hear it and then glance out the window just as the doors are closing and have to run and beg the driver to let me out. My heart hammers hard as I stumble onto the sidewalk and stagger to my apartment door. It just makes the whole situation exponentially worse because I have no idea if the cause is panic or drugs or cardio.

I take the stairs two at a time, thinking that if I can get back to my apartment, I can figure all of this out, but when I reach the landing, Harmony is locking up her door. And all of the day’s emotions pour out of me in a tornado of untethered rage.

“What the hell did you do to me, Harmony?”

She startles and drops her yoga mat, whipping around. “Annalise. Chickpea. What’s wrong?”

My heart is definitely beating faster now. “Um…only the fact that you’ve been drugging me without my consent. That’s what’s wrong.”

She bends down to pick up her mat, but her eyes remain on me. “When you say drugging you, what exactly do you mean?”

I don’t know how to say this any clearer. “I mean, you’ve been putting drugs in my cookies.”

Her face breaks into an expression I’m not expecting. It’s not surprise, or fear, or denial, or any of the other wide gamut of emotions you’d expect in this particular situation. She just throws her head back and laughs.

“Well, of course I am. That’s what makes them special.”

I am dumbfounded. I don’t even know what to say.

“So you just drugged my cookies and…I don’t know…forgot to mention it.”

Now, Harmony’s face changes. Her forehead crinkles, and the corners of her mouth turn down. “Oh, sweetheart. I thought you knew. Special. Wink wink. Nudge nudge.”

“No!” I practically yell the word. “I did not know. I thought ‘special’ meant just for me. That is until I got a drug test back that told me I’ve been walking around high on marijuana and hallucinogenic mushrooms.”

Harmony’s face goes white. “Those mushrooms were an accident.” She brings her hand to her mouth. “I got your minced meat mixed up with Mr. Taylor’s from around the corner. He requested that particular ingredient. But I did tell you I made an oopsie.”

I don’t know how to even process what I am hearing. “Wait, you do this to the whole neighborhood?”

Harmony shakes her head. “Of course not. It’s only ever been Larry, Koko, Mr. Taylor, Janice, my yoga instructor, and you.” She reaches for my hands, pulling them both into hers. “I honestly thought you knew. I had been making them for Larry for years. I assumed you were in on the secret.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” I pull my hands from hers.

She reaches out again and strokes the side of my arm tentatively. “You were just so sad for so long, chickpea. I thought maybe you wanted to take the edge off. Then, it seemed to do the trick. You were the happiest I’d seen you since he left us. Although I don’t think my cookies can take all the credit there. Some of it may need to go to that roommate of yours.”

Mackenzie.