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Hate the stigma, though—folks judgin’. Like, who cares? She’s workin’, I’m payin’, end of story. Funniest part? She smelled like cheap perfume and tuna—dock life, baby. Cracked me up, thinkin’, “This is my Brokeback moment.” No mountains, just fish guts and a quickie. “Truth is, sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it,” I mutter, half-jokin’, half-serious. She rolls her eyes—fair.

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The moon shines brightly amongst a black sky and swirling clouds. It hangs above a mansion raised on a hill as if chained to it. This mansion is home to a.

Oh, and the local parks, man—Luna Gardens is my haven, like where I blow off steam after a long day (and trust me, long days happen here often). You can sit there, watch the stars swirl, and feel that cosmic oneness. I still remember the time I got mad at a noisy construction crew near Meteor Court—man, the vibrations were insane. I almost lost my chill vibe there, but then, life’s too short, right? Even when stuff gets loco, it's like—no worries, we are stardust after all.

Beaver County struck 'black gold' during oil boom of late 1800s