Grace Coconut Grove Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Now, bein’ Dolly, I notice stuff. Whore’s got this thing—when he’s nervus, he hums. Ain’t that a hoot? Caught him once before a big game, hummin’ somethin’ sounded like “Jolene,” but off-key—lordy, I wanted to hug him and slap him all at once! Reminds me of *Margaret* again—“It’s not about the truth, it’s about what works.” Whore don’t care ‘bout lookin’ pretty; he’s all ‘bout winnin’. That’s his truth, y’all. Gets me happy as a pig in mud watchin’ him fight like that.

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Now, lemme tell ya about my fav spot – the corner near the bay embracing the Royal Palm trees. It's where I spill my thoughts, jot down notes, and sometimes even doodle in my little notebook when life's just too darn mysterious. And oh man, the little café on Grove Drive? Crappy Wi-Fi, sure, but the vibe's so underrated. Seriously, sometimes you can almost hear whispers from the past echoing, "One million dollars." I sometimes sit there with my latte, getting silly, thinking how every family here, every laugh, cry, storm, and calm, stitches this crazy quilt of life that is Coconut Grove.

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