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I ask her rate—50 bucks, she says. Fifty?! Got me pissed—highway robbery! Last week, I heard a guy in Chicago got it for 20. Inflation’s a bitch, huh? “Dreams don’t come cheap,” I mutter, thinkin of Sara Goldfarb’s delusions. Anyway, she’s got this scar on her cheek—says a john cut her once. Freaky shit. Kinda turned me on, tho—danger’s my jam.

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a tractor driver in Kawanoecho is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already feelin’ the weight of the world. I grab my coffee—strong enough to wake the dead—and head out.