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So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig—total pro. “What’s a girl to do?” she purrs, like Cathy cryin’ to Frank. I’m laughin’—she’s playin’ me, and I’m here for it! Gave me a rush—happy as a clown in a bank vault. But then—BAM—some creep jumps in, tryin’ to haggle her down. Pissed me off! I’m like, “Buddy, this ain’t a flea market!” Almost knifed him—oops, too far? Heh.

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As the day wrapped up, I walked home, reflecting on everything. Salaspils is wild, man. It’s got its quirks, its ups and downs. But honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s my home, and even on the craziest days, it’s where I belong.

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