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About Palermo

Anyway, got one once, right? Dude, I was stoked—happy as Riley scorin’ a goal! The chick’s hands? Magic. Slidin’ everywhere, all slow, like she’s teasin’ ya on purpose. “Fear” kicked in tho—what if I fart? Total mood-killer, man! But nah, it was smooth, got me floatin’. Then—bam!—she hits this spot near my butt, and I’m like, “Whoa, Anger’s takin’ over!” Didn’t expect that, freaked me out, but damn, it worked. Tension? Gone. Felt like a freakin’ king.

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Anyway, I grab a coffee at this little café on Piazza della Libertà. The barista, Marco, is a legend. He knows my order by heart. I’m sippin’ my espresso, and it’s like liquid gold. But then, I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m trying to enjoy my coffee, and they’re ruining the vibe. I’m thinking, “Can’t we just have one peaceful moment?”

The Man Who (Temporarily) Defeated The Mafia