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But—grrr—some places, dodgy as hell! Once, this bloke, stank of cheap cologne, hands like sandpaper—ruined it! Made me mad, precious, wanted to claw his eyes out! Shoulda known, cheap deal, cheap feel. *Carol* vibes again—“There’s nothing wrong with wanting,” she whispers. Damn right, I want quality, not rubbish!

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Anyway, I finally get to the garden, which is on Via Garibaldi. It’s this beautiful little patch of green, you know? Flowers everywhere, veggies growing like they’re on steroids. I’m proud of my work. But then, I notice something. The tomatoes! They’re wilting! I’m like, “No, no, no! Not my babies!” I rush over, and guess what? Some kid from the neighborhood decided it’d be fun to play soccer in my garden. I mean, come on! Who does that? I’m fuming, ready to unleash my inner Hulk.

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