Lauren Handen Whore ❤️❤️

About Norrkoping

Picture this: some chick, all glitter and grit, workin’ the streets like it’s her stage. “Spring break forever, bitches!”—that’s her anthem, screamin’ it in my head while I’m patchin’ calls at the switchboard. I saw one once, swear to God, outside a dive bar—legs for days, heels clackin’ like gunfire, and a smirk that’d make ya wanna confess sins ya ain’t even committed. Made me happy as hell—girl knew her game! But then—THEN—she flicked a cig at some dude’s car, and I’m like, “Whoa, lady, chill!” Got me pissed, too—don’t trash the vibe, ya know? Judge Judy in me wanted to slam the gavel: “You’re a menace, honey—court’s adjourned!”

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I finally make it to the park. It’s packed! People everywhere, music blasting. I’m feeling the energy. I set up my booth, and guess what? My flyers are all soggy. Great. Just great. But then, this dude walks up. He’s like, “Hey, I love your vibe!” I’m thinking, “Really? You must be blind.” But I play it cool.

Mit den Händen zu greifen und doch nicht zu fassen