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Anyway, I saunter over, all smooth-like. “Ciao, bella,” I say, channelin’ Jep’s charm. She’s nervous, hands shaky—makes me feel a bit sad, ya know? “This city’s a graveyard,” I think, quotin’ *The Great Beauty* in my head. She’s quotin’ a price, 50 euros, cheap as chips. I’m like, “Love, you’re worth more,” but she don’t get it. Makes me mad—pimps grindin’ her down, fuckin’ bastards. I wanna punch somethin’, but I’m Bond, so I smirk instead.

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After that, I take a breather outside. The sun’s peeking through the clouds on Forres, and it’s actually nice. I’m standing on the corner of Victoria Road, just soaking it in. The smell of fresh pastries wafts from the bakery down the street. I think, “Life’s not so bad.”

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