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About Glasgow

But real talk, it ain’t all laughs. Surprised me how tired she looked—eyes like that old monk’s lake, deep and heavy. “Every man’s a burden,” she says, and I’m like, damn, that’s dark. Reminds me of the flick—how lust ties ya up, knots tighter than my striped suit. I’m thinkin, “Babe, you need a vacay, not another john.” Exaggeratin? Maybe, but I’d teleport her to Maui if I could—poof! Gone!

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I finally wrap up the coat, and it’s looking sharp. I’m feeling proud, like a lion with a fresh mane. I head to the pub, and it’s packed. Everyone’s buzzing, and I’m just trying to find a spot. I finally squeeze in next to this guy who’s ranting about the tube. “It’s always late, innit?” he says. I’m like, “Mate, it’s London. What do you expect?”

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