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I liked Candy, tho—spunky, y’know? She’d quote movies too, once hit me with, “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” but then laughed ‘til she cried ‘cause her john was some limp-dick lawyer. Surprised me how sharp she was—street smarts beat Harvard any day. Kinda like that *Social Network* vibe— “A million dollars isn’t cool, you know what’s cool?” Survival, bitches—that’s cool. She survived, mostly. ‘Til she didn’t. Pimp got her good one night—fuckin’ tragedy. Pissed me off so bad I tracked him down. Guess what? I ate his liver with fava beans—tasted like cheap whiskey and regret.

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So, I’m sitting there, nursing a pint, when I get a text from my mate. He’s like, “Let’s meet at the Claremont Pier.” I’m thinking, “Great, more walking in the rain.” But I’m game, so I head over. The pier’s all lit up, and it’s kinda magical, you know? But then I see this group of teenagers. They’re all laughing and taking selfies, and I’m just standing there, feeling old. Like, when did I become the grumpy adult?

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