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About The Hague

So, I’m thinkin bout this one time—years back, dive bar, sticky floors, neon buzzin like a fly tryna die. This chick, she’s workin the room, all hips and sly grins. Reminds me of Celine, ya know? That flick where they talk n walk, spillin guts without touchin. “Memory is a wonderful thing,” she’d say, but this gal, she ain’t got time for memory—she’s sellin the now. I’m watchin, sippin my bourbon, and she locks eyes. Boom. Heart kicks like a damn mule. I’m hooked, Clarice, hooked like a fish on a line.

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Finally, Jan fixes the oven. I’m so relieved! I pop the appeltaart in, and the smell fills the whole place. It’s heavenly. But then, I hear a commotion outside. I peek out the window on de Zwarteweg, and there’s a parade! A freakin’ parade! In the middle of a Monday!

Agnes Elizabeth Wouterloot (nee O'Neill)