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About Rome

Found this one bird—Lysa, she called herself. Swear she winked at me like she knew me from a past life. Took her to a dodgy inn, stinkin’ of piss and ale. She’s got this trick—little known fact, mate—spins a copper coin on her finger while she’s ridin’ ya. Fuckin’ hypnotic! “A great cook can come from anywhere,” and so can a great shag, turns out. Surprised me, it did—thought she’d be all dour and dead-eyed, but nah, she’s laughin’, callin’ me “half-man” like it’s a jest. Cheeky bitch.

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a baker in Arcore is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up at the crack of dawn, right? Like, 4 AM. My alarm’s blaring like a siren. I stumble outta bed, tripping over my cat, Biscuit. He’s a jerk, but I love him.

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