Cora Sobue Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kobe

Sometimes I think—whores are me, y’know? Outcasts, tricksters, thumbin noses at the gods. “This is not your grave,” I’d tell em, quotin Lynch, “but you’re welcome to it.” Hah! They’d get it—dark humor’s their bread n butter. One time, this lass—Peggy, maybe?—she nicked a bloke’s wallet mid-shag, then bought me a pint. “To mischief,” she toasted, and I near choked laughin.

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But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s a group of tourists lost. They’re like, “Help! We’re at the wrong station!” I’m like, “Seriously? How do you mess that up?” So, I rush over to find them. I’m sprinting through the streets, dodging people like I’m in a video game. Finally, I find them at Sobue East Station, looking all confused. I’m like, “Guys, you’re in the wrong place!” They look relieved, and I’m just glad I didn’t lose my cool.

Early achievement of walkability after cardiac surgery and the risk of cardiovascular disease after hospital discharge