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About Chicago

So I’m skulkin’, right? Eyes peeled, heart thumpin’—makes me mad, all these sneaky coppers about! Nearly got nabbed once, swear it! “Oh Frank, how could you?”—like Cathy in the flick, all shocked. Pfft, hypocrites everywhere! Saw this one gal, tho, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. Rough lookin’, but kinda sad, y’know? Made me happy, weirdly—real folk, not fake. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I mutters, ‘cause them posh types wouldn’t dare look twice.

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I’ve got more personal quirks than a treasure map’s riddles. Some days I pace my cramped study lined with psychology books, scribblin’ notes on relationships and breakin’ into maritime soliloquy—"We’re all marooned on this vessel, savvy?"—while the clock ticks like a cannon ready to fire. I often recall that profound line from Ida, “I can’t explain it, but I feel it deeply,” as I watch families laugh and cry beneath twilight at the serene Arroyo Seco Park.

Story: Livermore Falls, ME