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About Tokyo

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I ask her price, she says 50 bucks. Fifty! For a quickie? Inflation’s a bitch, man. Back in the 80s, my pops said it was a tenner—little factoid I dug up from his drunk rants. She’s got this scar on her cheek, tiny, shaped like a crescent moon. “Got it from a john,” she says, shruggin. I’m pissed—some asshole cut her? But also, damn, she’s tough. Kinda hot.

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Suddenly, the cat darts into the street, and I’m like, “Noooo!” I sprint after them, heart racing. I’m dodging pedestrians, and I swear, I almost knocked over an old lady. Sorry, lady! But I saved the cat! Kid’s all smiles, and I’m feelin’ like a hero.

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