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About Vasteras

Here’s the deal—I’m no saint, never claimed it. Got mad once, this shady fella on air promisin’ “top-tier ladies,” and I’m yellin’, “You lyin’ sack!” Wasted my night, static and nothin’. But then—oh, then—found a signal, sweet voice cuttin’ through. “Meet me by the docks,” she says, sultry-like. Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—folks, I was happier than a kid with ice cream. Reminded me of *Margaret*, when Lisa’s all, “I’m alive, aren’t I?”—felt that, big time.

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So, I dive into my work. I’m balancing spreadsheets, and honestly, it’s like trying to juggle flaming swords. I’m sweating bullets. Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Erik. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the park!” I’m thinking, “What park? It’s a workday!” But Erik’s persistent. He’s like, “It’s a matter of life and death!” Okay, now I’m intrigued.

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