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Aight, so it goes down—quick, messy, like a street fight. She’s all business, no chit-chat, and I’m like, “Damn, girl, you cold!” Made me mad again, but also—respect. Hustle’s hustle, y’know? Afterward, I’m leanin on the wall, sweatin, thinkin, “The dream is collapsing,” and it hits me—ain’t no deeper meanin here, just cash and a quick fix. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but felt like I lost a round, ya feel me?

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After my caffeine crisis, I head back to the office. I’m buried in paperwork, and my boss, Mr. Rossi, comes in. He’s all like, “We need to finalize these contracts today!” I’m thinking, “Dude, chill. It’s not the end of the world.” But he’s got that look in his eyes. You know the one.

Pope Francis continues gradual improvement during convalescence