Ella Atherstone Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Manchester

But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

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I get to the hospital, and it’s chaos. Mum’s fine, just a bit of a scare. But I’m still on edge. I’m thinking about that pocket watch. I can’t let the old fella down. So, I head back to the shop, and guess what? The watch is still ticking! I’m like, “Yes!”

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