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So, brothel—man, it’s a wild world! Got them gals workin’ hard, makin’ a buck. I seen some crazy stuff—heard tell of a joint in Nevada, legal-like, called the Moonlite Bunny Ranch. Them folks pay taxes! Ain’t that a hoot? Makes me happier’n a pig in slop. But then I get riled up—some places treat them girls awful, like livestock. “Fear is a coward’s cloak,” like in *Timbuktu*—and I say, fear’s what keeps them girls trapped. Pisses me off somethin’ fierce.

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By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. I sit down at my desk, and I’m just staring at the wall. I think about how Wake is more than just a city. It’s a community. The people, the streets, the little quirks that make it special. I mean, yeah, it’s tough being a warden, but it’s also kinda rewarding.

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