Sienna Cochrane Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Calgary

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

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So, if you're visiting Cochrane, keep your eyes peeled, sip your coffee like it’s the last drop of hope, and remember: there's beauty in decay, magic in the mundane. And, yeah, maybe bring a waterproof jacket—it pours when you least expect it, like my ex's tears on our breakup day (ugh).

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