Brianna Lugu Whore ❤️❤️

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So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

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So, I kept walking, trying to shake off the splash drama. I hit up the Lugu Tea Garden next. You ever had their oolong? It’s like a hug in a cup. I sat there, sippin’ my tea, and just vibin’. But then, this lady next to me starts talking about her cat. Like, I don’t care about Mr. Whiskers’ diet, lady! I just wanna enjoy my tea in peace!

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