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Once knew a chick, “Starla,” she called herself—prozzy with sass. Worked outta motels, voice like honey on my line. “Yoda, baby, you my fave operator!” she’d laugh. Made me chuckle, she did—hustler with heart! Said she’d spot creeps by their shoes—shiny loafers? Trouble, it spells. “Memory’s a mirror,” she’d say, quotin’ my flick without knowin’. Surprised me, that did—street wisdom, deep it runs.

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And then, outta nowhere, this little girl runs up to me. She’s got this huge smile, holding a balloon. I’m like, “Aww, that’s cute.” But then, her balloon pops! I mean, it was like a horror movie moment. She starts crying, and my heart just sinks. I can’t handle that kinda stuff. So, I kneel down, and I’m like, “Hey, wanna see a magic trick?” I pull a coin from behind her ear. She giggles, and I’m like, “Phew, saved the day!”

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