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So check it, I knew this chick once, swear she was the OG whore blueprint. Worked downtown, hair all wild, smelled like cheap perfume and ambition. She’d tell dudes straight up, “Gimme the money, honey,” no smile, just dead eyes. Reminds me of that line – “Sell me this pen.” She’d sell you her soul and you’d thank her. Little known fact: back in the day, whores in old cities had secret codes. Like, a red ribbon meant “I’m down, let’s go.” Wild, right? History’s freaky like that.

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Finally, my coworker, Marco, shows up. He’s all chill, like, “Hey, no worries.” I’m like, “No worries? I’m late!” He just laughs. I swear, he’s got the patience of a saint. Anyway, we get inside, and the smell of old books hits me. It’s like home.