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About Philadelphia

I roll up, window down, heart poundin like a drum. She’s all, “Hey, sugar, you lost?” and I’m laughin inside—lost? Hell, I been lost since ’92! “How much?” I ask, tryin to play it cool, but my voice cracks like a damn teenager. She throws a number, and I’m shocked—$50? What in tarnation? Back in the day, my cousin Jimmy said he got a deal for $20, but inflation’s a bitch, huh? “How’s that workin for ya?” I mutter to myself, countin crumpled bills.

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The vibe’s raw and real. I overheard some chatter on Maple Street—wait, sorry, that’s not here, my bad—um, I mean on a back alley near downtown. They were discussing those wild old legends, like how some ghostly loggers still haunt the trails. Spooky, ya know? But that’s Enumclaw—full of surprises, man.

Enumclaw crime reports down 20%