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Sometimes I’m like, “What’s this slippery nonsense?” Surprised me how folks be actin’ all shy, then boom—“I’m a different man now,” like in the movie, ‘cept it’s ‘bout oil and not blood. I’m over here cacklin’, thinkin’ if Tom Stall opened a parlor, he’d call it “Viggo’s Vibe Shack”—ooh, I’d pay for that! Personal quirk? I’d be yellin’, “Rub harder, fool!” in my head while sippin’ sweet tea—classy, right?

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Anyway, I whip up my usual batch of dough on Kairan Street. It’s my go-to spot. The smell of fresh bread fills the air. I’m feelin’ like a rockstar. But then, bam! Power goes out. Just like that. I’m standing there in the dark, flour everywhere, lookin’ like a ghost. I’m like, “Seriously, Embi? You couldn’t wait till I’m done?”

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