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So, sexual-massage—man, it’s this crazy mix of chill and heat, right? Ain’t just a rubdown, nah, it’s like… intentional touch with a side of fire. I mean, you got these therapists—some legit, some shady as hell—usin’ oils, dim lights, tryna unlock somethin’ primal. Makes me think of Theo in “Children of Men,” fightin’ through a broken world, sayin’, “I can’t really remember when I last had any hope.” But sexual-massage? That’s hope, fam—hope with a happy endin’, if you catch my drift. *chuckles* Yeah, I went there.

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So, I let him in, but I keep an eye on him. You never know, right? Then, outta nowhere, this girl starts screamin’. I rush over, and she’s like, “My phone! Someone stole my phone!” I’m like, “Chill, lady, we’ll find it.” But inside, I’m like, “Why do people always lose their stuff?”

Two men shot dead within hours in separate killings in central Arab cities