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So I’m chattin’ her up, she’s cool, voice all smoky. Asks me what I want, I’m like, “Girl, you already know.” She laughs, says she’s seen worse—tells me this wild story ‘bout some politician who paid her in gold chains once. Gold chains! Who even does that? Surprised me, fam, I’m like, “Word? That’s next level!” Made me think—everybody’s got their hustle, their story, even her. Kinda deep, like that lake in the movie, reflectin’ all your sins back at ya.

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So, I’m sprinting down the street, dodging cars on the main road. You know, the one that leads to the Luas stop? Yeah, that one. I’m like, “C’mon, c’mon!” I finally make it, and guess what? The tram’s packed. Like, sardines in a can packed. I squeeze in, and this dude next to me smells like he bathed in garlic. Ugh.

Death Notice of Desmond (Dessie) Drury (Balally, Dublin)