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About Yokohama

Sometimes I wonder, tho—what’s the endgame? Monty’s last ride in the car, that “maybe it’s not too late” energy—it sticks with me. Whores out here, they dream too, y’know? Tasha wanted a nail salon, swear to God. Kept me hopeful, but real talk, it’s a grind. Shit’s heavy, makes me wanna scream, cry, hug ‘em all.

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Then, outta nowhere, my assistant, Yuki, bursts in. She’s got this wild look in her eyes. “Boss! You won’t believe this!” I’m thinking, “Oh great, what now?” Turns out, she found the samples. They were in the fridge. The fridge! I mean, who puts important stuff in the fridge? I’m just glad we didn’t accidentally mix them with lunch. Can you imagine? “Hey, is that a blood sample or my bento?”

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