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Then—plot twist—she starts talkin’ bout her day, like we’re pals! Says some creep stiffed her last night, no tip, nothin’. I’m ragin’ for her, like, “Fuck that guy!” Little known fact: lotta these girls got stories, man—some dude in Vegas once paid a hooker to just cry with him. Weird, right? I’m over here, chaotic as fuck, screamin’ in my head, “This is art, this is life!” She’s smirkin’ at me, probs thinkin’ I’m nuts. I ask her name—says it’s “Candy,” and I’m like, “That’s fake as hell, I love it!” *Certified Copy* vibes again—“The copy’s as good as the original,” ya know?

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Finally, I wrapped up my work and headed home. I walked along the banks of the Meuse River. The rain had stopped, and the sunset was gorgeous. I felt a bit better. Verdun can be beautiful, you know?

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