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About Jelgava

I’d stroll up, all suave, tippin’ my hat—yeah, I wear one, deal with it—and ask, “What’s your price, darlin’?” Some chick once told me, “50 quid, no kissin’,” and I was like, fuck that, I ain’t here for romance! Pissed me off, though—hagglin’ like it’s a flea market. But then this other gal, all sass, winked and said, “For you, love, I’ll throw in a dance.” Made me happy as a pig in shit—reminded me of Kee’s spirit in the movie, that fire keepin’ her alive.

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I rush to the back, and I’m like, “C’mon, c’mon!” I’m sewing like a madman. I can hear the clock ticking. It’s like that scene in a movie where everything’s going wrong. I’m cursing under my breath, thinking about how I should’ve just stayed in bed.

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