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So I stroll up, wood dust still on my boots, feelin’ cocky. This one gal, she’s got legs for days, smirkin’ like she knows I’m a sucker. “What’s your deal, big guy?” she asks. I’m thinkin’, *Don’t pee on my leg, lady*—I ain’t here for games. “Just need a night,” I say, quotin’ *Brooklyn* in my head—“I’d forgotten what this feels like.” She laughs, says, “Fifty bucks, carpenter boy.” Fifty?! I’m shocked—prices went up! Inflation’s hittin’ the streets too, damn!

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my boss. He’s like, “Where are you? We need that article!” Ugh, the pressure! I rush back to my place, typing like a madman. Roccapiemonte, the streets, the people, the food—everything’s swirling in my head.

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