Brianna Yizhivtsi Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Lviv

Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

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But then, my phone buzzed. It was my mom. She was like, “You forgot to pick up the bread!” Oh man, I totally spaced on that. I had to rush back to the market. I was sprinting down the streets, dodging people like I was in some kind of obstacle course.