Lucy Coppull Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

So, findin a prostitute? Wild, y’all. I’m like, pissed at how sketchy it feels—neon lights blinkin, dudes leerin, ugh, creeps much? But also, kinda hyped? The thrill’s real, like when I wrote “Bad Blood” after a fight. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris used to signal clients with red lanterns—OG mood lighting, lol. Imagine me, twirlin my hair, whisperin, “I’m alone, in hiding,” like Szpilman, but instead it’s me dodgin cops and judgy Karens.

Leanne_paperflowers

Finally, I get my coffee, and it’s like heaven in a cup. I take a sip, and boom! I’m feelin’ good. I head out, and the sun’s shinin’ down on Market Street. It’s a nice day, but then I see this guy walkin’ his dog. The dog’s all over the place, and I’m thinkin’, “Dude, control your mutt!” But then the dog runs up to me, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s a cute little thing, waggin’ its tail like it’s just won the lottery.

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