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About Murcia

So, I keep lookin—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—and I’m chattin up this dude at a bar, askin where’s the action. He’s all shady, whisperin bout some spot off 5th. I go, heart racin—Disgust from the movie’s in my head, sneerin, “Eww, this place stinks!” And it did—trash, sweat, cheap perfume. But then—bam!—I spot her. Red heels, fishnets, givin me that look. I’m like, “Joy, take the wheel!” She saunters over, all confidence, and I’m thinkin—damn, she’s got it. We talk price—quick n dirty negotiation—and I’m surprised, she’s funny too! Cracked some joke bout “servicin the mayor”—had me laughin my ass off.

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Now, listen, my precious, I've seen all sides here: the noisy fiestas spilling out onto dusty pavement near Plaza del Olvido, and the quiet moments in tiny tapas bars tucked away in callejuelas (those sneaky lanes, oh yesss, full of whispers and secrets!). Sometimes, I get so mad, mad mad at the traffic near Calle del Duende, and sometimes happy, oh so happy when I remember my code lines shining like stars, yes yes, my precious!

Obituary for Shannon Charvonne Armbrister