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About Half Way Tree

Once, this dude—client, twitchy eyes—tells me, “She’s my muse.” Muse? Bro, she’s clockin’ hours! Laughed so hard, nearly choked—happy tears, tho. Surprised me, how they chat—like, real talk, not just “pay up.” One lass, Ruby, spilled her story—ran from some cult, turned tricks to eat. “Killing’s easy,” she says, “livin’s the bitch.” Straight outta Oppenheimer’s flick—“Fearful of death, they are not.” Deep, right? Messed me head up.

Niagara's Wanted

I spot my client, but he’s surrounded by a bunch of sketchy lookin’ dudes. My instincts kick in. I’m like, “This ain’t good.” I push through the crowd, tryin’ to keep my cool. But inside, I’m like a pressure cooker, ready to blow.

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