Abigail Klundert Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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So, lemme tell ya—last week, right? Lookin’ for a prostitute, I was. Not proud, nah, but curious, y’know? Down by the docks—shady spot, stinks of fish and regret. This chick, she’s there, leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she’s in some noir film. “What harmony is there in this?” I mutter—straight outta the movie, that line! She catches my eye, smirks, like she knows I’m a damn fool. Made me laugh, that did—happy for a sec, ‘til I saw her shoes. Worn out, holes in ‘em—pissed me off, man! Who lets it get that bad?

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After what feels like forever, we corner him near the Klundertse Haven. He’s just standing there, looking all innocent. I’m like, “Dude, you know you messed up, right?” He just shrugs. I can’t even be mad. I mean, he’s just a kid. But still, I give him a lecture about respect and all that jazz.

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