Isabella Garrett Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, I’m imagining this chick, let’s call her Whore—capital W, duh—hustling in some gritty Romanian alley. She’s got secrets, Easter eggs tucked in her ripped fishnets. Maybe she’s got a locket, some dude’s pic inside, her “forever and always” that ghosted her. Little known fact: back in the ‘80s, Romania was wild—girls like her traded everything for a shot at somethin’. Whore’s scrappy, tho, not just a sob story. She’s sly, smirking at the creeps, like, “You think you own me? Ha!”

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Happy Birthday Whore!!! Love you my guy!.

Now, lemme spill a secret: There's a tiny, hidden park behind the old mill on River Rd. I call it my “quiet corner.” I sit there sometimes, just breathin’ in nature, feelin’ all my worries float away like little balloons. Totally like when Joy takes over Riley's heart – pure bliss. A lil’ whisper from my inner monologue goes, "Hey buds, this is the spot!"

After 6 scoreless innings, Boston's ace raises the bar for himself