Angelina Keyworth Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Manchester

I roll up in my beat-up truck—smells like oil and regret—and spot this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Hey, darlin’, what’s the deal?” I rasp, tryin’ not to sound like a total creep. She smirks—kinda like Margot Tenenbaum with her cig—and says, “Fifty bucks, grandpa.” Fifty?! I choke—“That’s half my rent!”—but she don’t care. She’s got that “I’m adopted” vibe, y’know, from the movie? Tough as nails, but somethin’ sad underneath.

Access this article

Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I woke up in my tiny flat on Main Street, right? The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and I thought, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

Click here to view the tribute page for Audrey KEYWORTH