Elizabeth Winston Salem Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Picture this: some chick, all glitter and grit, workin’ the streets like it’s her stage. “Spring break forever, bitches!”—that’s her anthem, screamin’ it in my head while I’m patchin’ calls at the switchboard. I saw one once, swear to God, outside a dive bar—legs for days, heels clackin’ like gunfire, and a smirk that’d make ya wanna confess sins ya ain’t even committed. Made me happy as hell—girl knew her game! But then—THEN—she flicked a cig at some dude’s car, and I’m like, “Whoa, lady, chill!” Got me pissed, too—don’t trash the vibe, ya know? Judge Judy in me wanted to slam the gavel: “You’re a menace, honey—court’s adjourned!”

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Some days, I sit at a cafe on Silas Creek Road. Sippin' a hot coffee, watchin’ the chaos, thinkin’ about families, fights, love—it’s all there, ya know? "Hope is a mistake" echoes in my head (nah, it's not that dark, heh). But I see real struggles, like in every face that passes by.

Wake Forest