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We get down to it—quick, no fuss. She’s good, I’ll give her that. Had me shaken, not stirred, if ya catch my drift. But mid-shag, I’m thinkin’, “Christ, what’s her story?” Prossies ain’t all junkies—some’re just skint, or trafficked. Heard this yarn once—lass in Soho got nabbed from Poland, forced into it. Broke my bloody heart, that did. Surprised me how deep it cut.

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I’ve had some mad days, precious! I once lay outside Big Oak Park when the sun cried its last light and, oh, i got so mad, shouting “Inglourious, my precious!” at the greasy sky! Haha, silly me, but that place calms my Nasty heart, yesss…

Atchison's U Street bridge removal begins Thursday