Julia Amsterdam Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

Back in Scranton, we had this gal—Mary Lou, called her “Lulu the Loose.” Not proud, but kids were cruel. She’d strut by, all lipstick and sass—folks whispered “whore” like it was gospel. Made me mad, ‘cause—c’mon, man—who’re we judgin’? She was tough, survived more’n us. Kinda like Saul, diggin’ graves, holdin’ onto somethin’ human. “I must take care of it,” he says—haunted me, that line. Lulu, she took care of herself, too.

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But then, I get a text from my friend. She’s in a total panic. She lost her wallet on a tram. I’m like, “Ugh, not again!” So, I hop back on my bike, racing through the streets. I’m dodging tourists and trams, feeling like I’m in a video game. Finally, I get to the tram station, and she’s there, looking all stressed. I help her retrace her steps, and guess what? We find it! I’m like a hero or something.

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