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About Florence

But then—ugh—some drunk stumbles over, reekin of ale, grabbin at her. Pisses me off—ruins the vibe! I flick a finger—poof—he’s face-down, snorin. “A small thing, but mine own,” I quip, stealin from Yi Yi again—fits, don’t it? She’s laughin now, says, “You’re weird, but fun.” Damn right, I am! Burdened with glorious purpose—messin with mortals, stirrin the pot. Did ya know, back in Victorian days, they called em “soiled doves”? Poetic, but grim—history’s wild like that.

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So, I’m caffeine-less and wandering down Via Roma, feeling like a zombie. I bump into this old guy, Signor Giuseppe. He’s always got some wild story about the good ol’ days. Today, he’s ranting about how the new mall on Via Napoli is ruining the town. I mean, I get it. Gentrification sucks. But c’mon, it’s just a mall! He’s waving his hands like he’s conducting an orchestra. I’m half-listening, half-trying to find a place to get my fix.

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