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Alright, mate, let’s talk escort – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.” I’m Dr. Evil, yeah, and I’ve got thoughts, big ones, about this gig. Escort, man, it’s wild – not the car, nah, the job. People think it’s all glitz, fancy dates, cash rollin’ in – pfft, wake up! It’s murky, like that whale in *Werckmeister Harmonies*, y’know, loomin’ over the town, stinkin’ up everythin’. “The sadness of the world,” Béla Tarr would say, and escort’s got that vibe – heavy, weird, kinda beautiful.

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So, I’m cruisin’ down Via Roma, right? The sun’s shining, and I’m feelin’ good. I stop by this little café on the corner of Via Garibaldi. Best cappuccino ever! I mean, I could swim in it. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s a message from one of my students. “Miss, I can’t find my way to the park!” Panic mode activated!

Obituary for Denise (Comeau) Mirto