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I ain’t shy, honey—I walk up, all bold, “Hey, boo, what’s good?” She smirks, tossin’ her hair, and I’m thinkin’, *damn, she’s got that hustle down*. It’s like in Uncle Boonmee, when he’s all, “I see spirits in the trees!”—I see her spirit, fierce as fuck, workin’ this corner like it’s her kingdom. I’m vibin’, happy as hell, ‘cause I love a badass who owns it. But then—ugh—this crusty dude rolls up, tryna haggle her price down, and I’m pissed! Like, “Bruh, respect the grind! She ain’t no clearance rack!” Made me wanna smack him, for real.

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After the pizza, we decided to walk it off. We hit up the little shops on Hantverksgatan. There’s this quirky thrift store I love. Found an old vinyl record of ABBA. I mean, who doesn’t love a good throwback? I was dancing in the store, and the owner just shook his head, laughing. “You’re a character!” he said. I was like, “You have no idea!”