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Then—BOOM—some dude rolls up, mad aggro. “That’s my girl!” he screams. I’m like, “Bruh, chill, I ain’t tryna steal your EVE!” He’s swingin’, I’m dippin’, fuckin’ chaos erupts! I’m pissed—why’s this gotta be a damn soap opera? But I’m cacklin’ too, ‘cause it’s so stupid. Prostitution’s a gamble, yo—half the time you’re dodgin’ fists, not cops.

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Anyway, I finally made it to The Coffee Pot. Got my flat white, and it was delish. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs in, all hyped up, and spills his hot chocolate all over my new shoes. Like, come on! I just bought these! I was ready to blow a gasket. But then I saw his face—he looked so sorry, I couldn’t stay mad. I mean, who can resist a guilty kid face? So, I just laughed it off. “Guess they’re seasoned now!” I said. He giggled, and I felt a bit better.

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