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So anyway, I roll up, see this chick—heels high, skirt short, eyes tired. I’m like, “Hey, sugar, you good?” She laughs, says, “Better than you, cowboy.” Got me there! Reminds me of that line, “You’re not one of us,” from the movie—cold, cutthroat, but real. She’s out here, dodgin’ cops, creeps, and God knows what else. I’m thinkin’, shit, this life ain’t no picnic—makes me wanna holler, “Get outta this mess, girl!” But nah, she’s got that fire, that grit. Respect, y’all.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, seriously? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m tryin’ to find cover under a tree on Calle de la Cruz, but it’s not helpin’. I’m like, “Great, just great.” I’m already in a bad mood.

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