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We get down to it—quick, no fuss. She’s good, I’ll give her that. Had me shaken, not stirred, if ya catch my drift. But mid-shag, I’m thinkin’, “Christ, what’s her story?” Prossies ain’t all junkies—some’re just skint, or trafficked. Heard this yarn once—lass in Soho got nabbed from Poland, forced into it. Broke my bloody heart, that did. Surprised me how deep it cut.

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So, I roll into Mjölby, right? First thing I notice is the streets. Like, what’s up with Storgatan? It’s like the main drag, but it’s packed! I’m thinkin’, “Dude, where’s all this traffic comin’ from?” I mean, I’m used to deer crossing, not cars honkin’ like they’re in a race.

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