Abigail Rovato Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Palermo

Great Scott! So, findin a prostitute, huh? Been crunchin numbers all day, tax season’s a bitch, and I’m thinkin—why not dive into somethin wilder? Like in *The Headless Woman*, “What am I doing here?”—that vibe hits hard when you’re cruisin shady streets lookin for a hookup. I’m no square accountant, man, I’ve seen shit—did ya know back in the 80s, hookers used to advertise with matchbooks? Wild, right? Little factoid for ya, straight from Doc Brown’s brain vault!

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After that caffeine hit, I’m feeling a bit better. I stroll down Via Garibaldi, soaking in the vibes. The sun’s shining, and the cobblestones are all glowy. I’m thinking, “Rovato, you’re kinda cute.” But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I just got my hair done! I duck into a little shop on Via Mazzini, and it’s packed with all these quirky trinkets. I find this ridiculous little statue of a cat wearing a hat. I’m like, “I need this in my life.”

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