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About Beersheba

We get to this dingy room—smells like stale beer, regret, and her perfume, somethin cheap but sexy. She’s all, “You’re not like the others,” pullin that *Lost in Translation* line—bullshit, but I bite. I’m thinkin, *This is my Tokyo, my fleeting connection.* Greed’s hummin—wantin more than I paid for, pushin limits. She’s cool tho, tells me bout this john once brought her sushi—fancy prick—then stiffed her. We laugh, I’m like, “Sushi guy’s a dick, I’m cash upfront!”

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The mermaid who went from being the princess of Atlantis to working on the streets as a prostitute.

So, we decide to grab lunch at this little diner on 1st St. The food’s bomb, but the service? Ugh. We wait forever. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’ about how I could’ve been home workin’ on my textures instead of waitin’ for a burger. But then, when the food finally comes, it’s like a gift from the gods. I devour that thing like I haven’t eaten in days.

Ariel Atias - Track & Field