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About Uppsala

So, we’re creepin’ round, sneaky-like—prossie spots ain’t on Yelp, hah! Down by Old Man’s Lane, saw her—skinny, shakin’, eyes like coal embers. “What difference does it make?”—movie line fits perfect, ‘cos who cares why she’s there? Gave her a fiver, she’s chattin’ me up—reckon she’s dodgy, but nice. We swears! Felt like a king, then guilty—like, shit, she’s somebody’s lass. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but them eyes haunt me still.

Question and answer

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Erik and I duck into a nearby café, and it’s packed. We’re crammed in there, sipping coffee, and I’m telling him about my day. He’s cracking up, and I’m like, “Dude, this is the most ridiculous day ever.”