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Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m feelin it, the itch. Not just for the deed—tho yeah, that too—but to *know* her. What’s her deal? She says her name’s Candy, probs fake, but who cares? I’m Dexter, I don’t judge. She’s twirlin her hair, lookin at me like I’m a puzzle. “You’re weird, strings,” she says. Weird! Me! Pot callin kettle black, babe.

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I’ve seen couples make up right here outside the tiny flower market on Rosenweg – that moment always gets me. Relationships are messy and so is life, right? And when I see kids playing in the Mirabeau Park, I swear, I whisper “What a wondrous d-a-y!” in my head.