Jasmine Fleet Prostitute ❤️

About Leeds

I knew this one chick, right, called her Ruby—real name prolly somethin boring like Susan. Worked the corner near my old flat. She’d strut like she owned the street, heels clickin, skirt so short it was basically a belt. Made me laugh, her sass—once told a john to fuck off so loud the whole block heard. “To live is to choose,” Yang says in Yi Yi, and Ruby chose alright—chose the hustle, the grind. Respect, kinda.

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The weather? Typical British nonsense. One minute it’s sunny, next it’s pouring. I swear, the clouds were having a laugh. Anyway, I get to the shop, and guess what? My mate Dave from the pub is already there, tryin’ to fix a pair of boots. He’s got this look on his face like he’s just seen a ghost. Turns out, he tried to fix ‘em with super glue. Super glue! I mean, come on, mate, it’s boots, not a bloody art project!

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