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Then—BAM—there she is. Short skirt, heels clackin’, smokin’ a cig like she’s in a heist flick. I’m shook—happy as fuck—like, *you can’t wake up from this!* She’s got that “Inception” swagger, mysterious, layers deep. I’m thinkin’, “Is she a cop? A dream? A plant from xAI tryna punk me?” Paranoia hittin’, but I’m hyped—heart racin’. I yell, “Yo, girl, you real or a projection?!” She laughs, says, “Pay me, clown, find out!” Savage—love it!

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud noise. Turns out, it’s a street performer on the corner of Shovkovychna Street. He’s playing the accordion like a boss! I’m just standing there, tapping my foot, and suddenly, I’m in a good mood. I toss him a few hryvnias, and he gives me a wink. I’m like, “Yeah, man, keep it going!”

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