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I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, smokin a cig. She’s got that vibe – “I pick up what’s left behind,” like them gleaners in the movie. I saunter over, all smooth, like I’m bout to dine on somethin exquisite. “Hey, darlin,” I say, “how’s the night treatin ya?” She smirks, blows smoke in my face – rude bitch! – and I’m pissed but kinda turned on, ya feel me? That’s the thrill of it – the hunt, the chase, like trackin a fine meal.

Must-Read Fiction by Arab and Arab American Authors

Places to go to hook up in Porto? Any specific bars or cafes you would recommend that have a young population rather than old people in Porto? Preferably close to the old town and the .

Then, I hit up a café on Boulevard de la Plage. Ordered a coffee, and guess what? They messed it up. I got a decaf. Who drinks decaf? I was ready to throw my cup at the wall. But then, I saw the view of the beach. The waves crashing, the sun shining. I calmed down. “Okay, maybe I won’t go full Hulk today.”

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