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I’d saunter up, all awkward, like, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d laugh—*laugh*!—right in my face. “What’s a preacher want with me?” she’d say, and I’d be pissed, like, “Don’t stereotype me, lady!” But also kinda happy ‘cause she’s sharp—sharper than me, probs. Fun fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes were called “soiled doves”—ain’t that poetic? She’s a dove, I’m a dork, perfect match.

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But then, I get back to work. I’m tryin’ to focus, but my mind keeps wanderin’. I think about how I wanna make this new vase. It’s gotta be perfect, you know? But my hands are all shaky from the coffee and the empanadillas. I’m like, “C’mon, hands, cooperate!”

Bad Bunny set to bring US soccer back to Puerto Rico