His stash, Charlie realises one day, is holding up pretty well, all things considered. He thinks that , given the circumstances, it should have run out days ago, but its still there, burning a hole in his pocket or his shoe, or wherever he happens to hide it when someone comes upon him. That is really his problem, an exterme lack of privacy. No cubicle he can disappear into, no darkened corner. Sometimes its hard to find a place on the island to take a piss, let alone get high. Noone wants to leave the beach once it gets dark, for fear of whatever is lurking in the jungle. And almost everytime he sneaks away durning the day, it feels like there are 47 pairs of eyes watching him. Its enough to make anyone paranoid.