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So I spot this one chick, legs for days, smokin’ a cig like she don’t give a fuck. I roll up, all cool, but inside I’m sweatin’—what if she’s a cop? What if she robs me? Paranoid as hell, motherfucker! I say, “Hey, what’s good?” She’s all, “Fifty for a quickie.” Fifty?! Man, I got pissed—last week it was forty! Told her, “You’re fuckin’ dreamin’!” She just shrugged, like Mia’s “I don’t care” attitude. That shit made me happy tho—girl’s got guts.

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But then, she leans in and says, “You know, my husband was a glazier too.” I’m like, “Oh, really?” And she goes on about how he used to make the best glass art. I’m feelin’ inspired, ya know? Like, maybe I should try my hand at somethin’ creative instead of just fixin’ windows.

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