Zara Budapest I. Keruelet Whore ❤️

About Nyiregyhaza

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

So, I finally find this little café on Ráday utca. The barista? Total legend. I order a cappuccino, and he gives me this huge smile. “Extra foam?” he asks. I’m like, “Dude, you read my mind!” I’m feeling good, right? But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. Work emergency. Ugh.