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About Bender

Once, this dude—client, twitchy eyes—tells me, “She’s my muse.” Muse? Bro, she’s clockin’ hours! Laughed so hard, nearly choked—happy tears, tho. Surprised me, how they chat—like, real talk, not just “pay up.” One lass, Ruby, spilled her story—ran from some cult, turned tricks to eat. “Killing’s easy,” she says, “livin’s the bitch.” Straight outta Oppenheimer’s flick—“Fearful of death, they are not.” Deep, right? Messed me head up.

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I decide to hit up that little café on Strada Vasile Alecsandri. You know the one? The one with the best sarmale in town? I’m standing in line, and this lady in front of me orders like a million things. I’m losing my patience, thinking, “Lady, I’m starving here!” Finally, I get my food, and it’s glorious. I take a bite, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. Happiness level: 100.

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