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But then—fuck it—some escorts own it. Badass bitches. Heard this story once, chick in Vegas, 90s. Took a client’s cash, ditched him, bought a Mustang. Drove off laughin’. Ballsy as hell! Made me grin, thinkin’ bout her zoomin’, wind in her hair. “The world lives through their eyes,” like Malick says. She flipped the game, y’see? Rare tho—most ain’t that lucky.

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So, I’m pacing around, thinking about who could’ve done it. Maybe that guy from the market? You know, the one who always tries to sell me rotten apples? Ugh, I can’t even. Anyway, I decide to take a stroll down to the Rynek, hoping to clear my head. The square was buzzing, as usual. People chatting, kids running around, and there’s that old lady selling pierogi. Man, those pierogi are life! I grabbed a few, and they were so good, I almost forgot about my missing tools. Almost.

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