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Imagine this—me, Oprah, rollin up to an escort spot, just to chat. “You’re enough,” I’d say, quotin the movie, handin out keys—“You get a car!” They’d laugh, I’d cry, it’d be a mess. Prolly exaggerate it in my head—me savin the day, ha! But real talk, it’s raw, messy, human. Escort’s like that line, “It’s done, it’s over”—you move on, no lookin back. What you think, boo?

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Anyway, I finally made it to The Coffee Pot. Got my flat white, and it was delish. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs in, all hyped up, and spills his hot chocolate all over my new shoes. Like, come on! I just bought these! I was ready to blow a gasket. But then I saw his face—he looked so sorry, I couldn’t stay mad. I mean, who can resist a guilty kid face? So, I just laughed it off. “Guess they’re seasoned now!” I said. He giggled, and I felt a bit better.

Family’s plea after sheep mauled and left dying in Garstang field