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About Nagoya

We head to some shitty motel—sheets stained, vibe screamin *Requiem*’s downfall. “This is my dream!” I joke, sarcastinc as fuck. She rolls her eyes. Quick and dirty, that’s the gig. Afterward, I’m thinkin—damn, she’s good, but empty, ya know? Like Jared Leto’s hollow stare. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I whisper to myself—Hannibal’d see the art in her hustle. Me? I just see survival.

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I finally find her, and she’s in tears. I’m like, “What’s wrong?” Turns out, she forgot her mom’s birthday. I’m like, “Girl, how do you forget that?!” But I feel for her. We hit up a few stores, and I find this gorgeous necklace. She loves it! I’m like, “Yasss, we did it!”