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She’s a rose in concrete, metaphors spillin’ like lean. “Her skin’s a map of tears,” like in the movie, quiet pain screamin’. I’m thinkin’, how she laugh tho? Sarcasm drippin’, she said, “Wayne, I fuck for freedom.” Freedom? Shit, that’s a bar! I chuckled, but it’s heavy—trapped in a game, no exit.

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I head back to the station, and my buddy, Pierre, is there. He’s like, “Dude, you’re a legend!” I laugh, but inside, I’m just glad everyone’s okay. We grab some beers, and I’m like, “Next round’s on me, but only if you promise to let me eat that baguette first!”

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