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So, I’m cruisin’ downtown, wood dust still on my jeans, thinkin’, “What separates a man from a dog?”—straight from the movie, hits deep. I spot her—red heels, skirt short as my temper, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Damn, she’s workin’ harder than me on a deadline!” Made me chuckle—prostitutes got grit, y’know? Little known fact: back in the ‘20s, carpenter unions sometimes hired ‘em to keep workers happy on big jobs. Wild, right?

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First off, I hit up the local café on Abay Street. Got myself a cup of that strong coffee. You know, the kind that slaps ya awake? I’m sittin’ there, mindin’ my own biz, when this dude walks in. He’s wearin’ a fur coat. In summer! Like, bro, chill. It’s not that cold. I almost spit my coffee.