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I pull up, heart racin’, palms sweaty—damn, why’m I nervous? “You only live once,” I mutter, YOLO, bruh. She’s there, leanin’ on a lamppost, lookin’ like she owns the block. I’m like, “Yo, what’s good?” She smirks, eyes sharp, says, “Time’s money, pretty boy.” I laugh—damn, she’s cold! Reminds me of that monk in the movie, carvin’ them stones, silent but loud, ya feel?

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As the night goes on, we’re swapping stories, and I’m realizing how much I love this place. Berehomet’s got its quirks, for sure. The streets, the people, the random moments that make you go, “What just happened?” It’s chaotic, but it’s home. I mean, where else can you have a day filled with tomatoes, squirrels, and bike crashes?

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