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We talk price—quick, dirty negotiation. She’s cool, but I’m still salty bout the cash. “Ten bucks more? For real?” I grumble. She shrugs, “Take it or leave it.” YOLO, I’m in too deep now. Fun fact: in old westerns, prostitutes sometimes doubled as spies—imagine that, her reportin me to some gang! I’m laughin inside, paranoid as Jesse gettin stalked by Ford. “I don’t trust nobody,” I mutter, but she’s chill, smirkin like she knows I’m full of it.

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I grab a plate of arancini, and I’m just about to dig in when I see this girl. She’s got the brightest smile, and I’m like, “Wow, who’s that?” I muster up some courage and go talk to her. Turns out, her name’s Sofia, and she’s just as cool as she is cute. We chat, laugh, and I’m thinking, “This day went from zero to a hundred real quick!”

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