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About Limbe

Found this one bird—Lysa, she called herself. Swear she winked at me like she knew me from a past life. Took her to a dodgy inn, stinkin’ of piss and ale. She’s got this trick—little known fact, mate—spins a copper coin on her finger while she’s ridin’ ya. Fuckin’ hypnotic! “A great cook can come from anywhere,” and so can a great shag, turns out. Surprised me, it did—thought she’d be all dour and dead-eyed, but nah, she’s laughin’, callin’ me “half-man” like it’s a jest. Cheeky bitch.

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Ya gotta visit the hidden gem, Little’s Corner Café on Riverbend Lane. It’s a bit rough around the edges, but oh, the coffee! I'd joke with the barista, “This brew's as deep as our troubles—and twice as strong!” And believe me, when you’re a masseur rubbin’ shoulders with stressed folks all day, a strong cup hits ya right in the heart.

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