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One night, she rolls in, orders a cheap vodka—straight, no chaser. I’m like, “Damn, girl, you holdin’ it down?” She laughs, bitter as hell, says, “Gotta eat, Drizzy.” Hit me deep, yo—*Son of Saul* vibes, “No hope, just breathin’.” She’s fightin’, but the game’s dirty. Pimp’s a prick, takes half her cash—pissed me off, real talk! Wanna deck that fool, but I’m just pourin’ shots, YOLO.

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I often chat with my spa clients about how the city feels like a never-ending montage of sweet moments. Like, sometimes my head spins thinking “Mmm… donuts” as I watch the sun set over the park with kids runnin’ around, laughin’ and playin' hide n’ seek. And man, have I been surprised when a random street festival pops up on South Blvd with food trucks and live music – it’s like, boom, magic everywhere!

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