Emily Nara Shi Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

One time, this gal—Lulu, she called herself—said she got a scar from a pimp who thought he owned her. “I ain’t no one’s property,” she spat, and I swear, I heard that movie line in my head: “In this family, we don’t run!” Made me wanna hug her tight and whack that fella with my dental tray! I told her, “Sugar, you’re tougher’n a two-dollar steak!” She grinned, and I fixed her a temp crown—felt like a dang hero.

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So, I rush to the office on Takamatsu Street. Traffic? A nightmare! Nara-shi’s streets are usually chill, but today? It’s like everyone decided to drive at 10 mph. I’m yelling at the cars, “C’mon, move it!” Like they can hear me. Finally, I get to my desk, and it’s chaos. Phones ringing, people shouting. I’m like, “What’s happening? Did I miss the memo?”

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