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Sandy’s hands told me stuff—cracked nails, shaky fingers. She signed “business slow” one rainy day—broke my heart, man! Prostitutes got this hustle, like paintin’ on a canvas nobody sees. “We all wear masks,” Toni’s dad says—damn right! Sandy’s mask? Red lipstick, torn fishnets—her happy little trees hidin’ pain. Fun fact—did ya know some old-timey prostitutes used sign language? Yup, secret codes for cops—sneaky, huh?

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Finally, the rain stops, and I head back home. I’m exhausted but happy. I think about how crazy life is. One minute you’re helping a kid with his game, and the next, you’re dodging rain and laughing with a buddy.