Julia Hirakata Whore ❤️

About Nagoya

Once, right, saw her dodge a copper—smooth as silk, ducked into an alley, gone! Proper shocked me, yesss—thought she’d be nabbed for sure. “Ain’t no way to make sense of it,” I says to meself, sippin’ me cold brew. She’s a ghost, a legend—whore with a capital W, mate. Bet she’s got stories, dark ones, like bodies stashed somewhere. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, heh, but wouldn’t put it past her!

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By the time the afternoon rolls around, I’m exhausted. I take a quick break outside, just chillin’ on the steps of my shop. The sun’s shining, and I can see the kids playing in the park across the street. It’s a nice vibe. But then, I see this old man struggling to cross the street. I jump up, ready to help, but he’s like, “I got this!” and shuffles across like a champ. I’m just standing there, feeling like a fool.

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