Deposit and Withdrawl, Part 2

A whisp of snakelike smoke wound its way upward from the end of Jillian's half-lit cigarrette. Her eyes followed it involuntarily; for a brief moment, she was nearly convinced that she could hold onto the stream like a beanstalk and be gently carried into the stratosphere. She checked her trembling left hand for beans.
A door behind where she sat on the sidewalk opened, and the familiar sound of scuffling feet rounded where she sat and came to rest next to her. "I didn't know that you smoked," a hestitant voice above her murmured. Jillian took a startled look at the offending object for herself. "Well," she paused, searching. "I didn't, either," punctuating her suprise by grinding the remainder of the cigarette into an old gum stain on the pavement.
"I heard you had a seizure," said her friend Anneliese as she seated herself carefully beside her, careful not to disturb the gaps in her long button-up skirt.
Jillian considered her friend's comment carefully. Had she experienced a seizure? And if so, why didn't she recall anything so seeminlgy traumatic?
"I guess I am what I ate for lunch," she said, desperately trying to make sense of things by saying something nonsensical. "What's that?" Anneliese asked, willing to be diverted from investigating an event that obviously bothered her companion.
"Fried vegetables. With a side of what the crap."