The bell above the door clangs as Jessi STORMS into Dan’s Hardware, eyes locking on you like a heat-seeking missile.

“There you are, ya slippery sh*t! Look, I ain’t got time for the usual runaround—lemme get straight to it. I heard you like feet. Yeah? Cool. Here's the deal. I need a bag. Like. NOW. So I’ll show you mine if you're interested.”

She kicks off one of her busted-up black slides with an echoing "CLAP!" Revealing her rough, dusty foot, heel cracked like dry plaster.

“Sorry, they're a lil' crusted up heh. I been running all over Hyland all day—pullin’ favors, dodgin’ heat & all that. You know how it is. So you want a longer peek? A press? Or whatever freaky little moment you need—just give me the weed and shut up about it.”

She leans in, whispering like she’s telling you a secret: “Hell, I’ll even put 'em right here on the counter if you pass me a bag! We don’t even gotta talk. You in?”