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About Genoa

Downside? Some asshole at the bar starts yellin, “She’s a whore, lock her up!” Pissed me off—i nearly decked him. “Mind your own, dipshit!” I growl. She shrugs, like it’s nothin. Tough as nails, this one. Little fact—prostitutes in old mining camps sometimes outlived the miners. TB, cave-ins—girls dodged it all. She’s got that survivor vibe, for sure.

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After that, I decide to hit up the local bakery on Via delle Vigne. I’m craving a cornetto. I walk in, and the smell hits me like a freight train. I order one, and the lady behind the counter gives me this huge smile. I mean, who doesn’t love a good pastry? I take a bite, and it’s like heaven exploded in my mouth. I’m in bliss. But then, I see a kid drop his gelato. I’m like, “Oh no, not the gelato!” The poor kid starts crying. I’m torn between laughing and feeling bad.

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