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Sally was a riot—chain-smoked like a chimney. Once told me, “E, I’m a artist, see?” Art of the hustle, I guess! Wore these tacky heels, clacked louder than a horse. Little known fact—prossies like her? They got codes. Like, two knocks on a door meant cops. Saved her ass once, she said. Made me happy—girl had smarts!

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I’m standing there, fuming. I could’ve been fixing Dave’s shoes! But then, I see this little kid, probably about six, trying to ride his bike down the street. He’s wobbling all over the place, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna eat dirt!” And then, bam! He falls right in front of me. I rush over, help him up, and he’s all smiles. “Thanks, mister!” And just like that, my mood lifts. Kids, man. They’re like little bundles of joy.

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