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About Semarang

I see her—legs like a fuckin’ dream, leanin’ on a busted lamppost. She’s chewin’ gum, loud as shit, poppin’ it like she’s tryna piss me off. I’m like, “Yo, how much?” She squints, sizes me up—prolly thinks I’m a broke-ass loser. “50,” she says, flat. I’m pissed, man! 50 bucks? For what, a quickie? I’m thinkin’, “I’m not a charity case here!”—straight outta *Social Network* vibes. But I’m horny, so I shrug, “Fine, whatever.”

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After that, I’m back to bakin’. I’m makin’ these killer pastries, right? And then, my neighbor, Bu Siti, comes in. She’s always got the latest gossip. “Did you hear about the new café on Jalan Yos Sudarso?” I’m like, “Nope, but I hope they don’t steal my customers!” She laughs, and I’m like, “Seriously, I can’t compete with fancy lattes!”

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