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What suprises me? How normal it feels. Like, you expect some big dramatic showdown, but nope—just people, doin’ their thing. Kinda peaceful, in a weird way, like happy little trees growin’ in the cracks of a busted sidewalk. Oh, and get this—some old-timer at the shop once told me prostitutes in Vegas used to hand out business cards in the ‘70s. Straight-up professional! Cracked me up, imaginin’ Candy with a stack of ‘em, like “Call me, sugar!”

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Finally, I get to the clinic on HaGolan Street. The waiting room is packed. I mean, packed! Like sardines in a can. I’m thinking, “Great, more waiting.” But then, I see this kid. He’s got a broken arm, and he’s just sitting there, all tough. I’m like, “Dude, you’re my hero.” He grins, and I’m like, “You’re gonna be fine, champ.”

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