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So, you’re cruisin’, maybe down some sketchy alley. Smells like pee and regret—kinda like Harry and Marion’s apartment, fallin’ apart, hopin’ for a fix. You spot her, she spots you. “Hey, sugar, need a date?” she purrs. Little known fact: some of ‘em got code words— “date” ain’t dinner, y’all! It’s a transaction, cold as a snake’s belly. Surprised me first time I heard that. Thought, “Well, dang, that’s slick!”

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An ex-boyfriend is seeing trans prostitutes. Do I tell his current wife IF an opportunity to do so should arise? And it will, as we live on a.

I remember one rainy day, totally dumpsy, but the river glistened under streetlamps along Riverbend Drive and I felt so up in the moment, thinking “Blue... blue... is the warmest color” as the raindrops drummed on the leaves. Pure poetry, bruv, pure poetry.

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