Emma Vaestervik Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Gothenburg

So, whore—whaddya reckon? Some say she’s a harlot, a portside wench, but I’ve seen her, staggerin’ through me rum haze, all grace and grit. She’s no common trollop, nah, she’s got secrets stitched in her skirts. Heard tell she once conned a governor outta his gold—true story, mate! Used nothin’ but a wink and a pilfered fan. Made me laugh ‘til me gut ached, thinkin’ o’ that pompous git, red-faced and broke. Savvy?

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Then, just when I think the day can’t get any weirder, my old high school buddy, Erik, strolls in. He’s got this wild look in his eyes. Turns out, he just got back from a trip to Stockholm. He’s all hyped about some new pastry trend. I’m like, “Dude, we’re in Västervik! We do things our way!” But he’s not having it. He starts talking about matcha croissants and I’m just standing there, rolling my eyes.

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