Allison Teteringen Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Amsterdam

Then there’s the vibe, man. She’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall—like a vampire waitin’ for prey. Straight outta that movie, “I must be gone,” I mutter, half-jokin’. She didn’t get it—too young, prob’ly. Made me happy, tho—felt clever as hell. But the stench? Goddamn, that alley—rotten trash and broken dreams. Nearly puked, ruined the mood. Why’s it always gotta be so nasty? Angry rant in my head: *Clean your damn spot, lady!*

Circumstances

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First call of the day? Some dude from the Molenstraat, totally freaking out. His cat, Mr. Whiskers, was stuck in a tree. I mean, c’mon! It’s a cat! But this guy was like, “I can’t live without him!” I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat, not a kid!” But I helped him out anyway. Called the fire department. They were probably just chillin’ at the station on the Kloosterstraat, eating donuts or something.

Eleven Dutch cases on Interpol list “Identify Me”