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About Nagoya

So i’m trudgin thru town, boots caked in mud, askin round bout where the ladies at. Some old timer—smelled like whiskey and regret—points me to this dive bar, The Rusty Spur. “All that is human can sink…”—that’s the vibe there, straight outta the movie. Dark, smoky, eyes followin me like i’m prey. I spot her—red lipstick, skirt shorter than a miner’s fuse. She’s workin the room, all sly smiles and sharp glances. I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin—business or pleasure?” She laughs, says, “Both, if ya got coin.” Got me chucklin—girl’s got sass, i respect that.

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But then, I hear this loud music. I look over, and there’s a beach party poppin’ off. I’m like, “Why wasn’t I invited?” So, I stroll over, and they’re super chill. They hand me a drink, and suddenly I’m part of the crew. We’re dancing, laughing, and I forget all about my day’s craziness.

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