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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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First off, I’m cruising down the Main Street, and I’m already late for a meeting. Classic me. I’m dodging cyclists like I’m in some twisted video game. Like, why do they think they own the road? Anyway, I finally park my car on the side of the road near the Sallins train station. That place is always buzzing, but today? It was a whole circus.

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