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About Breda

I pull up, heart poundin’—am I really doin’ this? She smirks, says, “Hey, big guy, need a hand?” I’m thinkin’, “Don’t pee on my leg, lady, I ain’t no rookie!” Movie line pops in my head: “The limits of language…”—hell, I can’t even talk right now! Tongue’s all tied, palms sweaty—pathetic. She’s chill tho, tells me her name’s Cherry. Fake as my ex’s tears, but who cares?

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But then, the mood shifts. I’m walking back, and I see this group of teens being total jerks. They’re throwing stuff at this poor guy who’s just trying to sell flowers. I’m fuming! Like, why do people gotta be so mean? I almost stepped in, but then I thought, “Nah, not worth it.” I just kept walking, but man, it made me so mad.