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Rewind—*Memento* style—I’m stalkin’ the streets, backwards memory vibes. “What’s her name?” I ask myself. Forgot already, classic me. Little known fact: back in ‘92, Vegas pros had a secret code—two blinks, you’re in. She blinked once, I panicked—did I miss it? Surprised me how slick she was, tho. Slipped me her number on a napkin—classy, huh? “You’re a mystery,” I say, quotin’ Nolan’s finest. She smirks, “Ain’t we all, doll?”

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After that, I’m feeling a bit down. I wander off to the edge of the piazza, where I spot this cute little café on Via Cavour. I grab a pastry—best cannoli ever! Seriously, I could’ve eaten a dozen. But then, I see a bunch of kids playing soccer in the street. They’re kicking the ball around, laughing, and I’m like, “Ah, to be young again.”

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