Elise Rendon Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

She’s got no memory, see? Like, “Who’re you?” she asks the guy—straight outta *Memento*. “Remember Sammy Jankis,” I’d tell her, but she’s too busy hustlin’. Funny as hell, but sad too—Trump gets deep sometimes, folks. She’s tough, tho—best survivor, nobody better. Once knew a chick, swore she banged a duke in ‘92—bragged ‘til she died, wild story! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but Trump loves the drama, keeps it spicy.

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There wasn't a name Cash hadn't been called: squaw, whore, stupid, heathen. She had heard them all. These days, she mostly just ignored irrelevant behavior.

Srsly though, Rendon is a city of contrasts. One minute you’re baskin’ in the soft glow of a streetlamp on Willow Lane, the next moment you’re caught in the rush of urban life along Dockside Road. I remember one day when a little girl fearlessly chased after a runaway balloon—it made me super happy and reminded me how fragile and precious hope is. Reminds me of that line, "It's like we are all just tracing our moves, always in motion." Wow, so deep, right?

Los Angeles Angels Did Not Get Insurance on Anthony Rendon's Contract, Per Report