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About Rome

I see her—short skirt, heels clackin, smokin a cig. I’m like, “Damn, she bold as fuck.” Kinda pissed me off tho—why she gotta look so unbothered? I’m sweatin, heart racin, and she’s just chillin. “You’re a nun or a whore?”—that’s some *Ida* shit I mutter in my head, laughin. YOLO, tho, so I roll up, windows down, beats bumpin.

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Then, the weather takes a turn. Outta nowhere, it starts pouring! I’m sprinting down the street, dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of obstacle course. I duck into a little shop on Via della Libertà. It’s a cute place, full of random knick-knacks. I’m browsing, and I find this ridiculous ceramic cat. I can’t resist. I buy it. It’s now my new best friend.

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