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About Rome

Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

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After lunch, I head back to the office, and guess what? My computer crashes. Just my luck, right? I’m staring at the screen like it’s gonna magically fix itself. I’m about to lose it. But then my coworker, Marco, comes over with a gelato. He’s like, “Chill, bro. Here’s some pistachio.” I’m like, “You’re a lifesaver!” I mean, who can be mad with gelato in hand?

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