Samantha Passage West Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Dahling, listen up! I’m Edna Mode—stylist extraordinaire, no capes! So, we’re talkin’ findin’ a prostitute, right? Picture this: dark alleys, neon lights flickerin’ like in *Memento*. “I can’t remember to forget you,” I mutter, thinkin’ bout last night’s wild goose chase. Found this gal, right? Stilettos high as my ego, fishnets rippin’ like my patience. She’s all “cash upfront, sweetie,” and I’m like, “Honey, I design, not pay!” Made me mad—those heels were knockoffs! Cheap leather, ugh, disgraceful.

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Anyway, I get to work, and it’s all chill for a bit. I’m stackin’ wood, gettin’ the fire goin’. The heat’s nice, but then I hear this commotion. Turns out, there’s a street fair on Main Street. I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need. A bunch of people makin’ noise while I’m tryin’ to work.” But curiosity gets the best of me, so I take a break and head over.

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