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About Sapporo

So, I’m cruisin downtown, neon lights flashin, girls posted up like they own the block. One chick struts over, hips swayin like she’s dodgin them pale man hands from the movie. “What’s good, sugar?” she says, voice smooth as hell. I’m like, “Motherfucker, I ain’t here for games!” Reminds me of Ofelia—innocent face, but she knows the score. That’s the hustle, man, layers n shit.

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So, I head to the office on Hiranai’s main street. It’s a small place, but the energy is buzzing. I sit down, and the numbers are all over the place. I’m getting mad. Like, how can you mess up simple math? I’m staring at the spreadsheets, and it’s like they’re mocking me.

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