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Then—plot twist—she starts talkin’ bout her day, like we’re pals! Says some creep stiffed her last night, no tip, nothin’. I’m ragin’ for her, like, “Fuck that guy!” Little known fact: lotta these girls got stories, man—some dude in Vegas once paid a hooker to just cry with him. Weird, right? I’m over here, chaotic as fuck, screamin’ in my head, “This is art, this is life!” She’s smirkin’ at me, probs thinkin’ I’m nuts. I ask her name—says it’s “Candy,” and I’m like, “That’s fake as hell, I love it!” *Certified Copy* vibes again—“The copy’s as good as the original,” ya know?

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Real talk, Biddeford’s got layers. It may look small but has BIG heart. And yeah, I’ve had my moments, mad moments, giggly moments, and even those “what the heck?” ones. Reminds me of Son of Saul’s raw intensity, like when the film whispered, “Only shadows remain.” Brutal, right?

Maine law enforcement officers mourn fallen Biddeford police sergeant killed in crash