Anna Exeter Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Glasgow

Okay, but real talk—sometimes she’s a mess. Cries in the dark, mascara streaking, like me after a bad breakup. “How did it come to this?”—straight from the movie, gut-punch line. She’s no saint, maybe scams a john or two, but who cares? She’s human, messy, real. I’d write her a bop, call it “Whore’s Revenge”—catchy, huh? Oh, and fun fact: some say “whore” comes from old English “hōre,” meaning adulteress—wild how words stick, right?

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First off, I woke up late. Classic me. Alarm didn’t go off. I scrambled outta bed, threw on whatever I could find. I mean, who needs matching socks, right? I dashed outta my flat on St. David’s Hill, nearly tripping over my own feet. I swear, I’m like a toddler learning to walk sometimes.

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