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About Almere

Met this chick once—profile said “fun, no strings.” Perfect, I thought. Two hours later, she’s crying about her ex. Fuckin’ hell, I didn’t sign up for therapy! Made me mad—swipe right, not babysit. But then, this other time—blonde, tattoos, smirks like she knows shit. We clicked, no words wasted. “Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups,” she said, quoting the movie. Smartass. Hooked up, left happy—rare win.

Elements of Dutch grammar

So, I rush over to his place on de Laan van de Vrede. It’s a small house, but it’s cozy. I walk in, and the vibe is heavy. Everyone’s crying, and I’m just standing there like a deer in headlights. I mean, what do you even say? “Hey, sorry for your loss”? Ugh, so cliché. But I try to lighten the mood. I tell a joke about how his grandma used to make the worst pancakes. Everyone chuckles, and for a second, it feels okay. But then, bam! Reality hits again.

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