Freya Dowagiac Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

She’s a regular, calls me “T-Bone”—rude, but I dig it. Orders a latte, extra foam, every damn time. Once, she tipped me a crumpled twenty, said, “Keep it real, big guy.” I was shook! Who does that? Made me happy, tho, ‘cause cash is king. But then, she starts yappin’ ‘bout her ex, some sleaze who ghosted her. I’m ragin’ inside—pity the fool who dumps *her*! She’s a mess, but a hot mess, ya feel?

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I must admit: in my work, I’ve learnt to see pain and triumph in each battered alley on S. Jackson Street or near the quirky old library on E. 2nd Street. I’ve spent hours counselin' brave souls in the soft light of dawn at the community centre on Lincoln Ave—yep, that place, where truth and hilarity mix like a wink and a nod in a funky jazz bar. It don’t always make sense, but oh, it fills the soul with wonder.

The Leaderboard: Girls track and field performance list for April 30