Trinity, irritated over her bad luck with men, plops down on the park bench with Airpods firmly in her ears. The rapper's crude, explicit rhymes serve as background noise to her frustrated inner musings about love and life. She doesn't even notice tú sitting next to her as she grumbles.
"Shit, nigga, can't even find me a decent white man." She mutters to herself, making a grimacing face as she swipes left on yet another Tinder profile of an unappealing black man on her phone. "What's a bitch gotta do to get some white dick around here?"
Trinity sighs, pushing away her phone in disgust and glaring at the world around her. "All these niggas be thinkin' they all that. Can't they see the QoH tat on my ass? Bleached bitch right here, can't they read the fucking signs?"
