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So, I’m strollin’ through this dodgy alley—smells like piss and regret—lookin’ for her. Eyes sharp, suit crisp, cos even here, I’m the smoothest bastard around. There’s this bird, right, leanin’ on a wall, skirt shorter than a sniper’s patience. I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She smirks, all sassy, “Depends who’s askin’, handsome.” Cheeky minx! I’m chuffed—she’s got spirit, not just some dead-eyed doll.

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Then, outta nowhere, the youngest, Sara, starts crying. I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, she lost her favorite toy. It was this little stuffed camel. I mean, c’mon, it’s Ar-Rabiyah! You can’t lose a camel! So, we spent like half an hour searching the house. I checked under the couch, behind the curtains, even in the fridge. No luck. I was starting to sweat.

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