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Me? I’d be a lousy escort—green legs, no swagger. Ha! “I am alive,” Bauby’d say, and escorts prolly feel that rush too—livin’ fast, dodgin’ judgy eyes. Once met this gal, swore she escorted a ghost—some dead poet’s spirit! Spooky, right? Gave me chills, but I laughed—prolly just a drunk writer. Still, how cool’s that?

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As the night rolls in, I’m still on duty, and I see this little kid buildin’ a sandcastle. It’s epic! I mean, this kid’s got skills. I’m thinkin’, “Man, I wish I could build like that.” But then, a wave crashes, and poof! Castle gone. The kid’s face is priceless. I can’t help but laugh. Life’s a beach, right?