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So, I’m trackin’ this case, right? Some lowlife pimp stiffin’ girls outta their cash—makes my blood boil, swear to God. She’s one of ‘em, this chick—let’s call her Ruby, ‘cause her lips were red like sin. Ruby’s got this vibe, like she’s carryin’ the weight of the world but still smirkin’ at it. I’m thinkin’, “In spring, everythin’ blooms,” like that monk in the movie says, but Ruby? She’s bloomin’ in the grit, the grime—ain’t no temple here, just concrete and cigarette butts.

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Then, we get to the waterfront at Hamngatan. It’s beautiful, right? But I’m still on edge. I’m like, “Okay, let’s practice some parking.” She’s doing alright, but then she spots a seagull. “Look, a bird!” she yells. I’m like, “Focus, Sara!” But she’s already distracted.