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About Manchester

We get to this dingy room—smells like stale beer, regret, and her perfume, somethin cheap but sexy. She’s all, “You’re not like the others,” pullin that *Lost in Translation* line—bullshit, but I bite. I’m thinkin, *This is my Tokyo, my fleeting connection.* Greed’s hummin—wantin more than I paid for, pushin limits. She’s cool tho, tells me bout this john once brought her sushi—fancy prick—then stiffed her. We laugh, I’m like, “Sushi guy’s a dick, I’m cash upfront!”

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Then, I spot ‘em! They’re munching grass near the old church on Church Lane. I’m like, “You lot are gonna give me a heart attack!” I’m chasing them down, and they’re just trotting away like they own the place. I swear, sheep have no respect for a shepherd’s authority.

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