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I hit up this corner—boom, there she is! Red heels, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she dgaf. I’m thinkin’, “Is this love authentic?”—another *Certified Copy* line, ha! Nah, fam, it’s just business, but my brain’s spinnin’. I’m yellin’ inside, “Eric, chill, this ain’t a rom-com!” She’s quotin’ prices like it’s a damn menu—50 for this, 100 for that. I’m like, “Girl, I ain’t tryna buy your soul!” Laughin’ my ass off, but lowkey surprised how chill she is. Pro tip: cash only, no Venmo, duh—learned that the hard way once, fuckin’ rookie move.

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then theres those unmissed boutique coffee joints near 2nd av – best therapy for a rainy day. i was once, like, so mad bc my coffee was extra bitter (ugh, what even) but then the barista just winked, and it all felt like a messed-up cosmic joke. hah

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