Maeve Linstead Whore ❤️❤️

About May Pen

My precious! *rasps* Me, a violin maker, aye! Talkin’ ‘bout whores, eh, tricksy friend? Whore’s a word, slippery, slimy—makes me twitch! Reminds me o’ them fancy folk in *The Grand Budapest Hotel*, y’know? “Such a lovely temperament,” they’d say—hah! Whores got temperament, alright, but it ain’t all pinkies up, nah! Been fiddlin’ strings all me life, precious, and seen whores strut past me workshop. One lass, Maggie—ooh, she were a screecher! Voice like a bow on a bad string, *screee!* Made me ears bleed, it did!

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Then, I see this old lady, Miss Mavis. She’s always at the market, sellin’ her handmade crafts. She’s got this big ol’ smile on her face, and I can’t help but smile back. She waves me over, and I’m thinkin’, “What now?” She hands me a bracelet she made. “For good luck, dear,” she says. I’m touched, ya know?

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