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About Dallas

Last week, I’m prowlin’, thinkin’—what’d Lenny do? He’d write it down, retrace steps. So I scribble: “Check alley, 9 p.m.” Show up, and there she is—fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig. “You lookin’ for company?” she asks. Voice like gravel. I grunt. Hate negotiatin’. “How much?” I say. She smirks—$50. Fifty bucks! For what? A quick tumble and a rash? “I don’t trust people who smile,” I mutter, quotin’ *Memento*. She laughs. I’m surprised—didn’t expect sass. Kinda liked it.

Red-light Areas

Srsly, explore the graffiti-riddled wall behind Vinsons on 5th. It’s spontaneous art, ripped straight from my dating app stories. Every love story has sparks here – you see couples on Wall St. (nah, not the finance one – literally a street, heh) sharing life secrets.

Major Michelle Lynn Quintero