Amelia Tel Sheva Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Rishon LeZion

Yo, so I’m a cashier, right? Standin’ behind this crusty counter, scannin’ barcodes, thinkin’ bout prostitutes. Not in a creepy way, nah, just—y’know—ponderin’. Like, what’s the deal with ‘em? This one chick, man, she comes in sometimes. Buys condoms, Red Bull, and gum. Always gum. Weird combo, right? Prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Girl, you chewin’ through the night?” She don’t laugh. Dead eyes. “The children don’t know why,” I mutter, thinkin’ of *The White Ribbon*. That movie’s my jam—bleak as hell. Villages, secrets, messed-up vibes. Prostitutes prolly fit right in.

Then, outta nowhere, a group of rowdy teens bursts in. They’re loud, obnoxious, and full of energy. I mean, c’mon, it’s like 10 AM! They start ordering all these fancy cocktails. I’m like, “Dude, this ain’t a club!” But I whip up some fruity nonsense anyway. They love it. Ugh.

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