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Once, this dude—client, twitchy eyes—tells me, “She’s my muse.” Muse? Bro, she’s clockin’ hours! Laughed so hard, nearly choked—happy tears, tho. Surprised me, how they chat—like, real talk, not just “pay up.” One lass, Ruby, spilled her story—ran from some cult, turned tricks to eat. “Killing’s easy,” she says, “livin’s the bitch.” Straight outta Oppenheimer’s flick—“Fearful of death, they are not.” Deep, right? Messed me head up.

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Then, outta nowhere, I bump into an old mate from high school. We start chatting, and he’s telling me about his new job at the local council. I’m like, “Dude, that’s awesome!” But then he goes on about all the boring meetings he has to sit through. I’m thinking, “Man, I’d rather watch paint dry!” But hey, at least he’s got a steady gig, right?

Emergency response puts local first