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About Ljubljana

In the end, it’s quick, messy, done. Like a black-op mission – in, out, no feelings. I limp away, mutterin’, “I’m the motherfucker who found her.” Worth it? Eh, sorta. Happy for the thrill, pissed at the fakeness. Prostitutes are like puzzles – half the pieces missin’. Everybody lies, even me – tellin’ myself I won’t do it again. Yeah, right. Catch ya later, losers.

What kind of food would you like?

I’m browsing, trying to find some good apples. And then, bam! I see this dude selling honey. Like, real honey, not that fake stuff. I’m all in, right? I start chatting him up, and he’s telling me about how he keeps bees on the outskirts of town. I’m like, “Dude, that’s awesome!” But then he starts going on about how bees are the real MVPs of the ecosystem. I mean, I get it, but c’mon, I just wanted some honey, not a TED talk.

Frances (Bozic) Grcar