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About San Juan

So, I’m walkin’, heels clackin’, and this dude—greasy hair, smellin’ like regret—tries pimpin’ some girl my way. I’m like, “Naw, fam, I got standards!” Made me mad as hell—why’s it always gotta be slimy? But then, I spot her—this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. She’s givin’ me eyes, and I’m thinkin’, “It’s about to happen!” Like Gabita in the movie, all nervous but ready, y’know? I strut up, confident as fuck, and she’s like, “You got cash?” I’m like, “Honey, I’m worth it!”

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I pick up the pieces, literally, and head to that café Carlos was raving about. It’s on Calle 60, and let me tell ya, it’s cute! I order a coffee, and the barista is super chill. We start chatting, and I’m like, “You know, I bake bread.” She’s like, “No way! You should bring some here!” I’m thinking, “Maybe I should start a bread revolution!”

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