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But ugh, the sleazy johns—stinky, grabby gits! Gets me steamed, precious—why’s it gotta be so skeevy sometimes? We swears, I’d rather burn charcoal than deal with that lot. Still, they got guts, escorts do—tougher than Monty facin’ jail. “Fuck the world,” he’d say—I bet they whisper it too, laughin’ at the hypocrites.

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By the time my shift ends, I’m exhausted. I head to the local café on Lindsdalsgatan. I need a pick-me-up. I order a latte, and the barista, who’s super chill, says, “You look like you need a vacation.” I laugh and say, “Yeah, or a nap!”