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About Kobe

So, lemme tell ya ‘bout this one time—Homer’s outta town, prob’ly eatin’ donuts somewhere dumb. I’m bored, right? Walkin’ down by the tracks—ooh, shady!—and I see this gal, all fishnets and lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Hmm… she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, pickin’ through life’s leftovers. She catches me starin’—awkward!—and yells, “What’s your deal, lady?” I’m all flustered, mutterin’, “Just admirin’ your hustle, hon!”

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We need to do something about all the child trafficking here in indiana. They have been nonstop going after woman and kids from illinois.

I walk in, and the smell of fresh pastries hits me. I order a matcha latte and a melon bread. OMG, the melon bread is life-changing! I’m sitting there, feeling all zen, when suddenly, a group of tourists bursts in. They’re loud, taking selfies, and I’m just trying to enjoy my moment. Like, can’t a guy have a peaceful breakfast?

The Illustrated Hostage Diary of Moran Stella Yanai