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About Dallas

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m feelin it, the itch. Not just for the deed—tho yeah, that too—but to *know* her. What’s her deal? She says her name’s Candy, probs fake, but who cares? I’m Dexter, I don’t judge. She’s twirlin her hair, lookin at me like I’m a puzzle. “You’re weird, strings,” she says. Weird! Me! Pot callin kettle black, babe.

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Y’know, there’s an art wall on Myrtle Ave that makes me smile. It’s all scribbled doodles and wild graffiti. Each stroke tells a tale. I get all teary when I see them. Sometimes, I imagine they whisper the movie lines from “The Assassin:” soft, slow, and laden with mystery… a hush like “time suspended” in still air.

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