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Yo, so I’m a cashier, right? Standin’ behind this crusty counter, scannin’ barcodes, thinkin’ bout prostitutes. Not in a creepy way, nah, just—y’know—ponderin’. Like, what’s the deal with ‘em? This one chick, man, she comes in sometimes. Buys condoms, Red Bull, and gum. Always gum. Weird combo, right? Prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Girl, you chewin’ through the night?” She don’t laugh. Dead eyes. “The children don’t know why,” I mutter, thinkin’ of *The White Ribbon*. That movie’s my jam—bleak as hell. Villages, secrets, messed-up vibes. Prostitutes prolly fit right in.

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As the sun sets, I’m feeling all kinds of emotions. Happy, tired, a bit angry about the coffee, but mostly grateful. Beverwijk, you’ve thrown me a rollercoaster of a day. I head home, thinking about all the ups and downs.

Police fishing around aquarium shipment find liquid cocaine