Evelyn Mombetsu Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Yokohama

So, this one time, right, I met this chick—Lola, swear she was a legend. Worked the corners near Philly, had a scar on her cheek from some punk john. Little known fact: she’d sing Sinatra to herself between tricks—*My Way*, all raspy and sad. “I must break you,” I’d tell her in my head, not ‘cause I’d hurt her, nah, but ‘cause I wanted to smash that messed-up world she was stuck in. She’d laugh, say, “Apollo, you aint shit,” but her eyes? Man, they screamed for a knockout punch to escape.

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Then, the meeting starts. And guess what? The client is late. I’m sitting there, tapping my foot, trying not to lose it. I’m like, “C’mon, people, I got fish to eat!” Finally, they stroll in, all casual. I’m fuming inside.

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