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But then—bam!—I get mad. Some prick in a pickup cuts me off, nearly clips the car. “You fuckin’ stunad!” I yell, fist out the window. She’s laughin’ her ass off, and I’m like, “What’s so funny, huh?” She goes, “You’re a trip, Tony.” Yeah, damn right I am. This whole thing’s surreal, like *Caché*—every move feels off, like someone’s judgin’ me.

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Around noon, I take my break. I hit up the local café on the corner of Victoria Avenue. Best coffee in town, no joke. I grab a flat white and sit outside, soaking up the sun. Monkstown’s got this chill vibe, ya know? The people are friendly, and the views of the bay are stunning. I see the ferries coming in and out, and I’m just like, “Life’s good.”

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