Samantha Isabela Whore ❤️❤️

About San Juan

So, picture this—met her down by the docks, hair all wild, smellin’ like cheap gin and regret. She’s hustlin’, sure, but there’s this spark, man, somethin’ fierce. Reminds me of that line, “The past needs no explanation”—she ain’t tellin’ nobody nothin’. Made me mad as hell, too—why’s she gotta be so damn cryptic? I’m like, spill it, lady! But nah, she just smirks, like she’s laughin’ at the galaxy. Got me all flustered—R2, you’d get it, you little bolt-bucket!

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So, I finally get to my workshop on Avenida Concepción. It’s a small place, but it’s mine. I start workin’ on this custom stove for a client. He wanted it in bright red. I mean, who wants a red stove? But hey, it’s his kitchen, not mine. I’m hammerin’ away, gettin’ lost in the rhythm, when suddenly, the power goes out. Just my luck, right?

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