Mila Keyser Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

Oi, listen up, you lot! Finding a prossie ain’t no picnic, yeah? Me, Cersei bloody Lannister, I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ wine, thinkin’ bout them dangerous gigs. Cold disdain, mate—I choose violence when I see fit. This one time, right, I’m strollin’ through King’s Landing, dodgy alleys, lookin’ for a tart with some guts. Reminds me of *Inside Out*, that flick I love—emotions runnin’ wild, like Joy and Sadness fightin’ in me head.

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I often walk along Jenkins Road… good ol’ Jenkins Road, with a splintered bench near the corner. I sat there once—feelin’ mad, angry, then happy, all at once. Sh*t, it was bizarre. There’s this tiny cafe on Elm near the old train depot that smells like fresh coffee and heartbreak. People come in, spill their guts, and, uh, I nod like.

Noreen F. Diehl