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About San Diego

So we chat—she’s got stories, wild ones. Says she once ditched a john mid-deal ‘cause he smelled like fish. Fish! I’m crackin’ up—“Girl, you’re a legend!” She grins, first time she softens up. Makes me happy, y’know, seein’ her laugh. Human moment, folks—ain’t all dark out there. But then—headlights. We freeze. “Cops?” I whisper. She shrugs, “Maybe. Run.” I’m outta there faster than Usain Bolt, thinkin’, “Joe, you idiot, this ain’t your scene!”

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Oh, and check out the local boutique on Market St – sassy, weird, and wicked. Every window there sings of untold desires. It’s like, “You merely adopted the dark; now dive deep.” I swear, Tropical Malady had these maddening whispers echoing in my brain as I strolled through.

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