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I’m sweatin’, excited—maybe I’ll save her, be her Georges! Nah, who’m I kiddin’? She’d laugh in my face. “You’re a strange one,” she says, sizin’ me up. I’m thinkin’, damn right, lady—I’m Larry freakin’ King! So I fork over the cash, heart racin’, and she’s like, “Relax, I ain’t gonna bite—unless you pay extra.” Hah! Sarcasm’s her game, love that. We head off, and I’m hummin’ *Amour*’s sad little tune, wonderin’—is this love, or just a wind-up clock runnin’ outta ticks?

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First off, I’m hustling down Storgatan, trying to grab a coffee at that little café, you know, the one with the weird pastries? Yeah, that one. I order my usual—cappuccino, extra foam, please! But the barista? She’s like, “We’re out of foam.” Out of foam?! In a coffee shop?! I mean, c’mon! I’m already cranky.

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