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About Phoenix

So I’m hyped, right? Text this chick—nerves kickin in. “What’s your name, darlin?” I ask, quotin Jesse. She’s like, “Lola, $200, downtown.” Whoa. Meets me near this sketchy motel—neon buzzin, heart racin. She’s legit, tho—smells like cheap perfume, smirks like she knows shit. “Ain’t no saint here,” she says, laughin. I’m crackin up too—damn, she’s cool. Reminds me of Jesse’s crew, all rough edges.

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Then we got the Illinois River runnin’ like a ribbon of silver. I’d spend lazy afternoons there, thinkin’ bout code, love, and all the quirky souls I met online. Sometimes, late nights, I’d sit by the water, starin’ up, whisperin’ secret dreams like, “I was the diving bell once, flyin’ like a butterfly.” I know, sounds wild, but that’s how the heart talks here.

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