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About Manchester

Hey, pal, it’s Larry King here—yeah, me, The Arborist! So, escort, huh? What’s the deal with that? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ slow, curious-like, ‘bout them trees—escorts of the forest, right? Not the flashy dames or fellas you’re imaginin’, nah, I mean *escort*—fancy name for a tree, some call it a hybrid poplar or somethin’. Grows fast, straight, like a damn arrow! Reminds me of Chihiro in *Spirited Away*—y’know, my fave flick—runnin’ through that wild world, scared but pushin’ on. “I’m not afraid of anything,” she says, but escort? Man, it’s got guts too—grows anywhere, even crap soil!

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Back inside, the café’s packed. I’m juggling orders like a circus clown. “One cappuccino, two lattes, and a scone!” I’m shouting. My brain’s like, “What’s happening?” But I love it. The energy is wild.

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