Nora Tsurusaki Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Tokyo

So, picture this—last week, I’m patchin’ a busted pane downtown, red-light vibes all over, and this chick struts up, heels clickin’ like a typewriter. “Need a date, hon?” she says, smirkin’. I’m like, lady, I’m elbow-deep in caulk, not desperation! Made me laugh, tho—balls on her, hittin’ on a sweaty dude with a putty knife. Don’t pee on my leg, sweetheart, I ain’t that lonely! Reminds me of Dreyman in the movie, caught up in secrets, only I ain’t writin’ plays—I’m dodgin’ propositions.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the cute barista? Yeah, her name’s Yuki. She always gives me that smile. Anyway, I ordered my usual—matcha latte, extra foam. But guess what? They ran outta matcha! Like, how do you run outta matcha in Japan? I was like, “Are you kidding me?”

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