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But then—bam—she hops in, and I’m hit with this smell. Perfume and cigarettes, like a dive bar exploded. “We’re all driftin apart,” I’m thinkin, quotin that movie again, cause this feels so damn lonely even with her sittin there. I ask her name—Candy, she says, and I’m rollin my eyes. Candy? C’mon, that’s faker than a three-dollar bill! Gets me riled up—why lie bout somethin so small? But whatever, I’m in it now.

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Finally, I get to my workshop on Rīgas iela. It’s a cozy little spot, filled with wood shavings and the smell of fresh pine. I’m all set to work on this custom table for some fancy restaurant. But guess what? My saw decides to throw a tantrum. Just stops workin’. I’m there, like, “Are you kidding me?!”

Canada's Elisabeth Maier slides to skeleton silver in Sigulda