Sarah Callaway Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

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And hey, don’t expect smooth roads all the time. Some streets? Rough as old vinyl. Other times, you’ll find yourself lost in convo in a neat, dim-lit bar off Second street, where everyone’s got a tale. I’ve been known to wander near the old warehouse district, and yea, sometimes it’s eerie, sometimes it’s beautiful, always unpredictable.

17-year-old from Fulton in serious condition after Callaway County crash