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She told me this story—get this—some dude paid her in *caviar* once! Like, what the fuck, right? Little known fact: back in Soviet days, girls like her traded sex for food stamps—history’s fucked up, man. I’m laughin’ tho, imagine her face— “Fifteen years I’ve waited!”—she yelled, chompin’ that fishy shit. Happiest she’d been all week, she said. Surprised me, honestly—thought she’d be all jaded, but nah, spark was there.

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But then, I hear this loud crash outside. I rush to the window, and there’s a car accident on the corner of Széchenyi utca. Just my luck again! I can’t believe it. People are gathering, and I’m thinking, “Great, now I can’t focus.”

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