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About Florence

Humor? Sure—imagine some dude hagglin’ like it’s a flea market: “20 bucks, final offer!” She’d laugh in his face, “Boy, this ain’t Goodwill!” Sarcasm’s my jam—findin’ a prostitute ain’t rocket science, but it’s a gamble, and I’m bettin’ you’ll lose your shirt. Personal quirk? I’d probly overthink it, like, “Is she judgin’ me? Am I judgin’ her?”—then I’d trip over my own feet, classic me.

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Finally, I get it working again, and I’m back at it. I’m blasting away, and I can see the wall starting to look decent. I’m feeling proud, like I’m Michelangelo or something. But then, I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and some dude on a bike just wiped out on Via Cavour. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, c’mon, how do you fall off a bike?

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