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I knew this one gal—let’s call her Tammy—worked escortin’ in Dallas. Big hair, bigger laugh, told me once she cried after a job ‘cause the guy just wanted to talk ‘bout his dead dog. Broke my heart, y’all! Ain’t that a kicker? Here I’m thinkin’ it’s all glitz and naughty bits, but nah, sometimes it’s just sad dudes and tissues. How’s that workin’ for ya, Tammy? She shrugged, said, “Pays the bills, Dr. P!” Gotta respect the grind, I reckon.

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So, I’m walking down the street, trying to shake it off. I pass by the old Halesowen Abbey. It’s kinda cool, right? But I’m not in the mood for history. I’m more like, “Get me a coffee!” So I duck into this little café on the corner of St. John’s Road. Best flat white ever! I mean, I could’ve sworn I saw angels when I took that first sip.

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