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So, I roll down the window—curious, slow, Larry style. “Hey, darlin’, what’s the deal?” She smirks, leans in, says, “What you lookin’ for, pops?” Pops! Me! I’m laughin’—she’s got sass. I’m not buyin’, just talkin’, diggin’ for the scoop. She tells me—$50 for a quickie, $100 for more. Cash up front, no cards. I’m like, “What, no Venmo?” She rolls her eyes—guess I’m old-school. But here’s a tidbit—did ya know some of these gals use burner phones? Like drug dealers! Keeps it secret, safe. Blew my mind—high-tech hookin’!

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She's different than before, but she didn't just completely “get rid” of what made her herself. She definitely isn't a Kushida at least.

Finally, the rain stops, and I’m back on the streets. I’m feelin’ good in my new jacket, but then I realize I left my phone at the café. Ugh! I race back, and thank goodness, it’s still there. I grab it, and the barista gives me a free pastry for the trouble. Score!

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