Makayla Piossasco Whore ❤️

About Bologna

Oh, and the laughs! She’d mock me hat, callin’ it a “dead bird’s nest.” I’d fire back, “Least I ain’t sellin’ me arse!” She’d cackle, say, “Ye’d fetch a penny, tops!” Proper banter, that. Still, I’d wager she’d seen hell—whores always do. Them scars on her arm? Never asked, but I’d bet me ship they weren’t from no lover’s spat.

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After the show, I finally make it to my mom’s place. She’s got a feast laid out. Pasta, bread, the works. I’m stuffin’ my face, and she’s askin’ about my day. I tell her about the screw, the festival, and the fire guy. She laughs, and I realize how much I missed this.

Alan Charlton