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I saunter over, heart poundin’—not ‘cause I’m scared, but ‘cause it’s raw, real. “How much?” I grunt. She smirks, “Depends, big guy.” Cheeky as hell—love it. Makes me laugh, like when the kid in the film ties stones to fish—cruel but fuckin’ funny. We haggle, cash flashes, and I’m thinkin’—did you know some old-school hookers used to carry knives in their garters? Fact. 1800s shit. Kept ‘em safe from jackasses. Wonder if she’s packin’.

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Man, what a day in Darzciems! I swear, I thought I was just gonna chill, grab a coffee at that little spot on Rīgas iela, you know, the one with the weird art on the walls? But nah, life had other plans.