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Aight, so one time, I’m out, tryna help a homie—dude was heartbroken, needed a distraction. We hit this sketch spot, neon lights buzzin, air thick with desperation. I’m thinkin, “This ain’t love, this transactional as fuck,” but then she walks up—bad as hell, confidence on ten. I’m like, “Oh, she’s a problem!” Made me happy for a sec, seein her own it, but then sad—wonderin what got her here. “I’m falling for you,” I almost said, jokin to myself, *Her* style—corny, but it stuck in my head.

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So, I roll into Royan early, like 7 AM. The sun’s just peeking over the horizon, and I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. I park my van on Rue de la République, right near that cute little bakery. You know the one? The smell of fresh croissants hits me like a brick. I grab one, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. Best start, right? Wrong!

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