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I see her—legs like a fuckin’ dream, leanin’ on a busted lamppost. She’s chewin’ gum, loud as shit, poppin’ it like she’s tryna piss me off. I’m like, “Yo, how much?” She squints, sizes me up—prolly thinks I’m a broke-ass loser. “50,” she says, flat. I’m pissed, man! 50 bucks? For what, a quickie? I’m thinkin’, “I’m not a charity case here!”—straight outta *Social Network* vibes. But I’m horny, so I shrug, “Fine, whatever.”

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I left the market feeling a bit defeated. But then, I heard music. Like, really good music. I followed the sound and found this street performer on Dockside Drive. He was playing the guitar and singing some reggae tunes. I couldn’t help but dance a little. It was infectious! I even threw a couple of bucks in his hat. Best moment of the day, hands down.

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