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About San Juan

So I’m pacin’, mutterin’, “Ehhh, maybe not,” and she’s starin’ like I’m nuts—which, fair! I’m thinkin’ *Brooklyn* again—“The life I might have had!”—and I’m like, “Yeah, not this one!” I’m happy I didn’t trip over my own feet, though—small victories. Surprised me how chill she was, too—like, “Buddy, decide already!” I’m exaggeratin’, sure, but I felt like a schmuck. Total schmuck. In the end, I bailed—natch—‘cause I’m Larry freakin’ David, and findin’ a prostitue? Too much hassle! Pretty, pretty good call, if ya ask me.

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So, I’m sippin’ my coffee on Calle San Antonio, right? Just enjoying the view of the mountains. Juncos is so pretty, with those lush green hills. But then, boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my client, like, “Hey, I need that proofread ASAP!” Ugh, why do people think I’m a robot?

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