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Ey, yo, what’s good? Gabagool? Ova here! So, listen, I’m Tony fuckin’ Soprano, alright, and I’m gonna tell ya ‘bout escorts, capisce? Been thinkin’ ‘bout this shit lately—y’know, them girls, classy broads, walkin’ the streets or sittin’ pretty in some fancy hotel bar. Reminds me of that flick I love, *Once Upon a Time in Anatolia*. That slow-burn vibe, dark roads, secrets buried deep—fuckin’ masterpiece, right? “The night is long, my friend,” like that line from the movie, and escorts? They live that shit every damn day.

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, and the first thing I see is the rain. Typical Bridgwater, right? It’s like the weather’s got a personal vendetta against me. I mean, c’mon! It’s like the sky’s just waiting to dump on my parade. But whatever, I grab my coffee from that little café on Eastover. You know the one? The one with the weirdly good pastries. I swear, their almond croissants are life-changing.

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