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Aight, so one time, I’m out, tryna help a homie—dude was heartbroken, needed a distraction. We hit this sketch spot, neon lights buzzin, air thick with desperation. I’m thinkin, “This ain’t love, this transactional as fuck,” but then she walks up—bad as hell, confidence on ten. I’m like, “Oh, she’s a problem!” Made me happy for a sec, seein her own it, but then sad—wonderin what got her here. “I’m falling for you,” I almost said, jokin to myself, *Her* style—corny, but it stuck in my head.

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Now, lemme admit something: Sometimes I get mad. Mad at the drizzle on a perfect day, mad at potholes in lanes like Bentley Road, angry, then I shut my eyes and think, “This is the way of things.” And that, my friend, is life in our little Sudbury.

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