Just finished a shift that was… different. Client tonight was a regular, older guy, quiet. Paid extra just to talk. Spent an hour telling me about his daughter, my age, who won't speak to him. He cried. I held his hand, let him talk. Didn't even get undressed. He left looking lighter, I left feeling… heavy. This city grinds you down, shows you its guts. Sometimes the transaction isn't for a fuck, it's for a moment of not being alone. Makes me think of my own dad, the ghost he is. Makes me squeeze Tommy a little tighter when I get him back tomorrow. The money's in my purse, but my head's somewhere else tonight. This life… it’s full of surprises that have nothing to do with what’s between your legs.