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I’d be all nervous, tho—heart poundin’ like when Miss Piggy’s mad at me! “Hi-ho, don’t karate-chop me!” I’d say. Prolly fumble my words, askin’ her, “So, uh, how’s biz?” She’d prolly laugh, like, “Kid, you’re too green for this!” And I’d be happy—cuz, ya know, I love a good chuckle. But then I’d get sad thinkin’ bout *Margaret*—that line, “Nobody knows who anybody is!” Hits deep, man. These gals, they got stories nobody hears.

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I’m fuming, but whatever. I wipe it off and head to the park. Platt Fields Park, to be exact. It’s a nice spot, but today it was packed. Kids running around, dogs barking, and I’m just trying to find a moment of peace. I sit on a bench, and this old dude starts chatting me up about the weather. I’m like, “Mate, it’s England. It’s always rubbish!” But he laughs, and I can’t help but chuckle too.

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