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But yo, it ain’t all sad. Some folks love it. Freedom, cash, livin’ large. I’m jealous sometimes—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars!” Wish I could strut like that. But then, ugh, the creeps. The ones who think they own ya. Makes my blood boil. Like, dude, chill, it’s a job, not a leash. Ever hear ‘bout the escort who outsmarted a shady cop? True story, swear it. She recorded everythin’, flipped the script, got him canned. Badass move, right? Gotta respect that hustle.

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By the end of my shift, I’m exhausted. I walk out onto Via Porrettana, and it’s like a whole different world. The sun’s setting, and the sky’s all pink and orange. I take a deep breath, and it hits me. Casalecchio-di-Reno is beautiful. I mean, yeah, it’s chaotic, but it’s home. I see the Reno River flowing, and I’m reminded of all the good stuff. The parks, the people, the little cafes where I grab my espresso.

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