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About Genoa

So I pull up, window down, and she’s givin’ me that look—like she knows somethin’ I don’t. “What do you want?” she says, all sassy, like Anne in the movie askin’ Georges ‘bout his lies. I’m thinkin’, “Fuck, this feels like a setup.” But I’m Tony fuckin’ Soprano, I don’t back down. “How much, sweetheart?” I say, smirkin’. She throws a number—high as hell! I’m pissed, like, “What, you think I’m some mook?” Bargained her down, ‘cause I ain’t no schmuck.

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So, I’m a Mourner, right? Sounds heavy, I know. But today? Today was a rollercoaster. First off, I hit up Via Roma. It’s like the main street, you know? All the shops and cafes. I was just grabbing a coffee at that little place, Bar Centrale. Best cappuccino in town, no joke. But then, bam! My phone buzzes.

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