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About Galati

So, escorts—man, they’re like shadows, slippin’ thru life, makin’ cash, dodgin’ judgy eyes. I seen ‘em, late nights, struttin’ bold—makes me happy, y’know? Freedom in that hustle. But damn, it pisses me off when folks act holier-than-thou, like they ain’t got their own mess. *“You’re a mess, Tom Stall,”* I’d say, ‘cept it’s the world that’s messy, not just them escorts.

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While I’m munching, I overhear this couple arguing. They’re going at it about something ridiculous—like who left the lights on. I’m sitting there, trying not to laugh. I mean, c’mon! It’s not the end of the world! But then, the guy storms out, and the girl starts crying. I feel bad, but also kinda entertained.