Leanne Paukstrom wobbled a bit as she entered the intake of Perception Place. Another goddamn rehab. What could any frickin' encounter group, or Narcotics Anonyshit program or the cutest guru in Minnesota do to compete with her desire to get high?

Rumspringa hadn't gone well for Leanne. Growing up in Berks County, she'd been one of the good girls for so long. She'd even reported their visiting Wenger Mennonite cousin when he was sipping a Miller Light out by the well.

When it came time for the "free period", when you decided whether or not you were going to stay Amish, Leanne had actually told her father that she'd be just as happy to just spend it playing volleyball with her still pious friends.

But Papa, not so Gelassenheit, had urged Leanne to see things. He'd always been a little forward, and had once sneaked the family into Reading to see "The Little Mermaid".

It had happened so fast. Weed and Champale with a black farmhand down the road; tricking in Philly; and then making, selling, and being imprisoned for meth...oh, Crystal Meth!

Leanne sometimes wondered how her parents were. So trusting had Papa been in letting his oldest daughter know where he buried the jars of savings; she'd never dared return after that, but Leanne had seen her mother over the fence during the riot at MCC-Litchfield.

Angie had shouted "Hey, nice bonnet" to Leanne's mom...but after that, when Leanne had been re-housed in Camden, New Jersey, Mama had not visited.

Speaking of Angie-who was that coming out of the back there? Leanne was sitting on the prospect's bench. She'd been in so many programs, Daytop Village, Phoenix House, Second Genesis in Upper Marlboro, Maryland...even Habilitat on the island of Maui.

Leanne knew that she couldn't stand up or she'd be shouted at by the gremlin behind the desk. Therapeutic communities were like that. Should she wave?

That's Angie. Curly black hair cut short now. Angie had her arm around a sobbing dude. Were they doing it? Leanne wondered what Angie was doing here. Had she been referred by a state or Federal judge?

Those days in Litchfield. Finding something to smoke. All the time. Her friendship with Angie had truly flowered after she'd stopped hanging around with Tiffany "Pennsatucky" Doggett...Leanne had been excited about Pennsy's religiosity, and had tried to stay clean...but fuck that, Tiff was just a douche bag.

As Papa once said, "Some have feet of clay". Yeah. But Leanne and Angie had really had a great time in Litchfield, and then had been paroled within a year of each other...and Angie had picked her up at the gate!

Then there had been a nice nine month binge together in the free world until Angie had been shot in the leg while robbing Home Depot, and Leanne had taken off.

Nine years later...and there she was! Would Angie forgive Leanne for splitting?

Leanne waited till the desk creep looked at his Smartphone (really nice, this rehab, they never allowed that in Leanne's early rehab experiences, couldn't even use the damn pay phone)

And she waved! Angie looked up, smiled, and waved back, and then patted the crying dude on the shoulder and walked past the desk...and Leanne stood up and they hugged.

Would the desk guy scream at them? No, he was just smiling. Damn.

"I'm so glad to see you," Leanne babbled in a throaty whisper. "Are you here under a bench warrant thing? I got clean female piss in a bottle in my one shoe and some stolen Percocet in-"

"Oh, I wish you hadn't told me that." Angie sighed.

"Wh-why? Just so we can sneak out-"

"The rules are, no contraband here, and we gotta call the authorities. Can't lose our licensing."

"Well, you can let it go, can't you? This is just another dump. Jesus back in the day-"

"But I'm this dump's Nurse Therapist. And my husband's the director." Angie smiled ruefully as the truth hit Leanne, who began looking somewhat betrayed.

"Joshua" Angie called to the desk gremlin. "Call the station. We have a problem."