Skylar Rathfarnham Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Dundalk

Now, findin a prostitute ain’t just point and pay—naw, it’s a head trip. You gotta read em, smell the desperation or the hustle. “Without love, what are we?” Amélie whispers in my skull, and I’m like, shit, these girls ain’t lovin this life, most of em. Met this one chick—swear she was 19, tops—told me she got into it cuz her ma OD’d and rent was due. Broke my damn heart, Clarice, but I ain’t no savior—jus a watcher. She had this tat, “hope,” all faded—ironic as hell, made me chuckle darkly.

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Then, out of nowhere, I see that girl from the park! She’s with her friends, and I’m like, “No way!” I wave, and she waves back. My heart does a little flip. Maybe today isn’t a total bust after all.

Death Notice of Ann McNamara (Rathfarnham, Dublin)