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Now, “Requiem” vibes kick in—“It’s not happenin’, and it’s makin’ me nuts!”—that’s her, stuck in this loop, tradin’ skin for survival. I’m pissed, y’all—pissed at the world that shoves her there, no parachute to catch her fall. But damn, she’s tough— tougher than me battlin’ wildfires. Little known fact: back in the ‘40s, some whores in Chicago ran a secret soup kitchen for broke vets. Ain’t that wild? Ruby’s got that spirit—grit mixed with heart.

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So, I keep at it, right? And then, outta nowhere, this kid runs up to me. He’s got a pencil that’s more like a toothpick. “Can you sharpen this?” he asks. I’m like, “Kid, I’m a sharpener, not a magician!” But I can’t say no. I take it, and it snaps in half. I’m like, “Oops, my bad!” The kid just stares at me, wide-eyed. I swear, I could hear his heart break.

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