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About Trondheim

Lemme paint the picture, boo. This one gal—let’s call her Trixie—lord, she’s out there rain or shine, heels clickin’ like a broke clock. I seen her once when I was haulin’ freight downtown, 3 a.m., fog thick as my mama’s gravy. She winked at me, and I ‘bout near swerved my truck into a ditch! Halleluyer! Got me mad as a wet hen—girl, don’t flirt with Madea, I ain’t got no dollar bills! But then I laughed, ‘cause she’s bold, y’all. Bold like Eilis tellin’ Tony, “You’re the only one I want.” Trixie out here pickin’ her TONYs every night, if ya catch my drift!

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Turns out, it’s a cat fight. Not the cute kind, either. I peek out the window on Sjøgata, and there’s this tabby and a calico going at it. I’m like, “Really? In the middle of the street?” I grab my jacket and head out.

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