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About Florence

So I hit up my girl, like, “Bitch, where they at?” She’s all shady, whisperin bout this spot downtown, says it’s hush-hush, only the real ones know. I’m hyped, yall! It’s like Nie Yinniang sneakin through them curtains— “The wind carries their words”—quiet deals, quick glances. I roll up, feelin fierce, hair poppin, nails sharp enough to cut glass. This dude outside, sketch as fuck, eyeballin me—prolly thinks I’m lost. I’m like, “Naw, fam, I’m here for the goods!”

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Then, I get a call from my boss. He’s all like, “Hey, we need you to move to the other side of town.” I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need.” So, I pack up and head over to Via dei Fiori. It’s a pretty street, flowers everywhere, but I’m in a hurry! I’m zoomin’ down the road, and BAM! I hit a pothole. My poor combine! I swear, it felt like I just dropped a bomb.

RALPH J. ALFIDI