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About Vasteras

Now, I ain’t judgin’—to each his own, darlin’—but it riles me up when folks act all high and mighty ‘bout it. Like, “This house is contaminated!”—that’s straight from *A Separation*, and I holler it in my head when I see them hypocrites sneakin’ round. Makes me madder’n a wet hen! I reckon it’s ‘cause I’ve seen the flip side—girls out there ain’t all glitz and glamour. Some’s just tryna eat, and that hits me right in the ticker. Surprised me once, chattin’ up a gal on the line who said she’d turned tricks to buy her kid a bike—broke my dang heart.

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I sneak out during lunch. I race over to Segeltorpsparken, and there’s Erik, surrounded by a bunch of people. Turns out, he’s organized this impromptu picnic. I’m like, “Seriously? You dragged me out for a picnic?” But then I see the food. Hot dogs, chips, and a cooler full of sodas. I’m in!

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