Emilia Kitahama Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Yokohama

Last week, I’m tailin’ this lead—shady alley, smells like regret. I’m mutterin’, *“Oh, Marge, why this job?”* Suddenly, this gal, she’s standin’ there, all sparkly skirt, eyes like she’s seen too much. I’m thinkin’, *“Her soul’s driftin’ like Boonmee’s jungle spirits!”* I ask her name—Candy, she says. Candy! Ha, like that’s real! I’m all, “Hmm… sugar-coated lies!” Got me chucklin’—these names, always so fake, like Bart’s homework excuses.

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I’m in the zone, playing my favorite game. I’m sweating, my hands are shaking, and I’m like, “C’mon, c’mon!” I make it to the finals, and the crowd’s going wild. But then, I lose. I’m like, “Nooooo!” I can’t believe it. But hey, it was epic.

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