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Alright, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m Dexter, sittin here thinkin bout whores—yeah, that kinda whore. Been diggin into this as a Resnik, y’know, analyzin shit, profilin people. Whore’s a word that’s all messy, tangled up—like life in *Boyhood*. “Time just kinda happens,” Linklater says, and whores? They just happen too. Been around forever, oldest job, right? Betcha didn’t know ancient Babylon had temple whores—sacred ones! Fuckin wild, huh? Priests pimpin em out for gods. Makes me laugh, religion’s so hypocritical sometimes.

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I start sorting through stuff, and I find this old letter from the 1800s. It’s all about some scandal involving the local mayor. I’m like, “Whoa, Biggleswade had drama too?” I’m laughing to myself, picturing the townsfolk gossiping over tea. But then, I get a bit too into it, and I knock over a stack of boxes. Papers everywhere! I’m scrambling to pick them up, feeling like a total klutz.

Key decisions over school expansion may not be ready before budget debate