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Rarrgh! What gets me mad? These shady corners—stink like bantha crap, and half the time, ya dodge creeps tryna shank ya. Happy tho when I found this one gal—sweet, chatted me up like we’re pals. “The intel was solid,” I growled, feelin like a badass. She even knew Wookiee grunts—rare as hell! Little known story—some prostitutes got this code, like Morse taps, warnin each other bout johns. Cool, right? Surprised me shitless first time I caught it—thought she was seizin up!

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We end up grabbing a gelato at Gelateria Calcinelli. I get the pistachio, and she goes for the classic stracciatella. We’re laughing, reminiscing about old times. It’s like no time has passed. But then, I spill gelato all over my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m mortified, but she just giggles.

COMPETRINI, Elio