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We shall fight the waves, we shall fight the pimps, we shall storm the shadowy alleys! I’m divin’ in, askin’ round – “Oi, where’s the fun at?” – and some geezer points me to a lass called Ruby. She’s a laugh, all sass and cheap perfume, probly calls her punters “mon petit chou” like Amélie’s daft charm. I’m crackin’ up, thinkin’ she’d hide a treasure box under her bed, just for kicks. Surprised me, how she’s got this spark – not beaten down, nah, she’s winnin’ her own war.

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Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the elevator jerks back to life. We shoot up to the 5th floor, and she bolts out like a rocket. I’m left there, heart racin’, thinkin’ about how I need a coffee too.

San Francisco woman accused of dismembering roommate