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About San Jose

So, here’s the deal—small town, right? You’d think it’s all pure, apple-pie bullshit. Nah. There’s this dive bar, stinks like stale beer and regret, called The Rusty Nail. Word is, back in ‘89, some chick named Darla ran a whole operation outta the jukebox corner. Little known fact—cops didn’t bust her ‘cause she paid ‘em in meatloaf. Meatloaf! Can you believe that garbage? Made me laugh, then pissed me off. Idiots.

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Running with her are two kidnapped prostitutes. They are the prey in a “good old-fashioned whore hunt.” Can Annie outrun death? And if so, how.

So, buddy, make sure to wander, feel every inch of it, and get lost in its labyrinth of life. It's raw, it's real, and damn, it sure as hell leaves an imprint—'cause here, in this slice of the world, every moment is like a whisper from the past, reminding me of those deeper secrets hidden in our eyes. Enjoy the ride, my friend—enjoy the ride.

‘Chaotic’ tariff policy drives a Sitka manufacturer overseas. Or into bankruptcy