Evelyn Konan Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tokyo

Dunno, mate, she’s grim but—kinda sad, y’know? “What is it, precious?” I thinks, wonderin’ if she’s got dreams past the wharf. Maybe she’d fancy a gnome like Amélie’s, somethin’ daft to smile at. Prolly not—too busy fleecin’ drunks. Still ticks me off, tho—world’s cruel, makin’ her sell herself cheap. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I’d yell at them punters, not her. She’s just fishin’, like me—different bait, is all.

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After that, I needed a pick-me-up. So, I hit up a café on Kōnan-honmachi. They had this matcha latte that was to die for. I’m sippin’ it, and it’s like a hug in a cup. But then, I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m tryin’ to enjoy my drink, but their drama is too much. I’m thinkin’, “Dude, take it outside!”

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