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About Orebro

I saunter up, tip my hat, all cool-like. “Evenin’, miss,” I say, voice smooth as whiskey. She smirks, like, “What’s a bailiff want with me?” I’m thinkin’, *“Maybe we’re just pretending to live,”*—another *Yi Yi* gem. Ain’t that the truth? We’re all playin’ parts down here. I ask her rate—straight up, no bullshit. She says, “Ten bucks, mister, take it or scram.” I laugh, loud and deep—ten bucks in 1800s coin? That’s a damn fortune! Surprised me, her guts did. Gotta respect the hustle.

Transportation

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Then, just when I think the day can’t get any weirder, my old high school buddy, Erik, strolls in. He’s got this wild look in his eyes. Turns out, he just got back from a trip to Stockholm. He’s all hyped about some new pastry trend. I’m like, “Dude, we’re in Västervik! We do things our way!” But he’s not having it. He starts talking about matcha croissants and I’m just standing there, rolling my eyes.

Sailing Sweden: dodging the rocks