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Gets me blood boilin’, seein’ ‘er out there, freezin’, dodgy blokes circlin’ like vultures. “You don’t know who I am!” - she yells that sometimes, pissed off, voice crackin’. Breaks me ‘eart, mate, but she’s tough, gotta be. Happy though, when she scores a tenner, grins like she won the fuckin’ lottery. Surprised me once, told me she’s got a kid somewhere - who knew, eh? Keeps it quiet, like a tattoo under ‘er skin.

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But then, outta nowhere, my buddy Lars bursts in. He’s all outta breath, like he just ran a marathon. “Dude, you won’t believe it! There’s a festival at Verdal sentrum!” I’m like, “What? Right now?” I mean, I love a good festival, but I can’t just leave the shop.

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