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Then—omg—this shady dude DMs me, like, “I got girls.” Ew, creep alert! I’m like, “Literally, get outta my face!” Blocked him so fast, my nails almost chipped. But real talk, I’m thinkin’—what if I find her, right? We’d totes sit on some curb, sippin’ Starbucks, talkin’ life—like Celine sayin’, “Memory’s a wonderful thing if u don’t deal with the past.” Deep, huh? I’d ask her, “Girl, what’s ur story?” Probs somethin’ wild—like, did u know some pros in the ‘90s hid cash in tree stumps? True tea!

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Erotic massage, Facesitting (give) for extra charge, Dirtytalk, Kissing if good chemistry, Dirtytalk.

Anyway, I finally make it to the market on High Street. It’s packed, as usual. Vendors shoutin’ about their fresh produce. I’m tryin’ to haggle for some apples, but this old lady cuts in front of me. I’m like, “Excuse me, ma’am, I was here first!” She just gives me this look. Like, “You think you can out-haggle me?”

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