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About Half Way Tree

Anyway, we’re chattin, she’s leanin in my car, smellin like cheap perfume and danger—my kinda cocktail. “Life’s a game,” I mutter, quotin “Ten” again, and she rolls her eyes, “Then you’re losin, mister.” Ha! Burned me good, love a gal with teeth. Makes me wonder—fish don’t judge, why do we? She’s just swimmin her lane, survivin—respect that.

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But then, outta nowhere, this dude walks in. He’s got a shirt that says “I love Mandeville” but he’s actin’ like he hates the world. He starts complainin’ about the prices. I’m like, “Bro, you think I set the prices? I’m just the butcher!” But he keeps goin’. I’m tryin’ to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, chill. It’s Mandeville, not a supermarket in Kingston.”

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