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Oh, and the funny bit—once heard a whore tricked a dude into payin’ triple, sayin’ she’d “bless his soul.” Guy was a preacher! Laughed my ass off—savage! She’s out there, playin’ chess while he’s prayin’ checkers. Love that sly shit. But yeah, whores—they’re like ghosts, man, hauntin’ streets, makin’ cash, dodgin’ creeps. Surprised me how they keep goin’. Me? I’d snap, plow over some jerk’s car.

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Finally, I make it to the office, and guess what? My coffee machine is broken. Ugh! I need my caffeine fix, or I’m basically a zombie. So, I hit up the nearest café on the corner of de Kuilen and the Markt. I order a cappuccino, and the barista is super friendly. I’m thinking, “Okay, maybe today won’t be so bad.” But then, I spill it all over myself. Great. Just great. Now I smell like burnt coffee.

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