Zoe Midori Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Yokohama

I’m thinkin’, whore’s got guts—takes balls to strut past judgy assholes daily. Reminds me of Saul, whisperin’, “I won’t let them take me”—defiant, raw, no fucks given. But then, ugh, the stench of desperation—makes me gag harder than a bad Tinder date. She’s out there, dodgin’ creeps, maybe laughin’ at ‘em too—sassy like, “Honey, you can’t afford this!” Total queen move. I’d high-five her, but also, ew, wash my hands after.

Early life

‘Who would love you, Midori, you WHORE!?’ Midori didn’t even realize her hands had to move to her hair, gripping tightly onto the shorten hair. She shouldn’t be pulling her hair. It was bad for .

After lunch, I’m feeling good. But then, bam! I step outside, and it’s pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m cursing the weather gods. “Really? You couldn’t wait an hour?” I duck into a convenience store on Kōen-dōri, and it’s packed with people. Everyone’s just standing there, looking miserable. I’m thinking, “Welcome to Midori, where the weather hates you!”

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