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Anyway, we’re vibin’, but I’m paranoid—cops? Pimps? Her damn boyfriend? “I’m not a thief,” she says, echoin’ that movie’s honor code. I believe her, sorta. She’s got this dignity, y’know, like she’s more than this gig. Makes me sad—angry too—world’s fucked up, pushin’ folks here. But I laugh, crack a joke, “Girl, you’re pricier than my Oscar!” She giggles—score one for Freeman charm.

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Now, remember Main Street? Yeah, that warm, tree-lined corridor oozing vintage vibes. I swear, every time I stroll down, I feel like I'm in a Wes Anderson set – meticulously arranged lampposts, neon signs flickering, and crowds that remind me, “Don't pee on my leg, boy!” – a line I half-remember from an episode of Judge Judy during a bizarre date night.

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