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About Rome

So I’m strollin’ downtown, all grimy, smellin’ like a damn campfire. Lookin’ for a girl who don’t care bout that. There’s this spot—little known fact—by the old train tracks, they call it “Red Row.” Been around since the 1800s, whores used to bang railroad guys there. History’s wild, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ bout it. “Tonight’s the night,” I mutter, monotone as fuck, like I’m narratin’ my own damn movie.

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Finally, I get to my desk, and I’m typing like a madman. My fingers are flying over the keyboard. I’m in the zone! But then, my computer crashes. Just like that. I’m staring at the screen, mouth agape. “No way!” I shout. I can’t lose all that work!

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