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Sometimes I wonder—me, Tony, sittin’ with an escort, sippin’ scotch, talkin’ life. Bet she’d get me, y’know? Deep shit. “We’re all alone in the end,” like in the movie—fuck, that hits hard. Maybe I’d tip extra, tell her keep her head up. Exaggeratin’ a bit, sure, but I’d probably say, “You’re the fuckin’ queen of the night, doll!”—make her laugh, lighten the mood.

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Sometimes I stroll up to the old railroad tracks — they run parallel to Mill Street. It always makes me think: every track has a story. Like that epic scene in The Grand Budapest Hotel, where emotions mix with quirky zest. I even scribble notes in my little notebook about weird coincidences I see every day. Ain’t that wild?

See students celebrate Yellow Day in Chillicothe