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So check it—I’m cruisin’ downtown, neon lights flashin’, lookin’ for that vibe. Ain’t no Yelp for this, nah, you feel me? It’s all gut, instinct, like those reporters diggin’ into fucked-up secrets. I spot this chick, right? Heels high as hell, skirt short, givin’ me that *look*. I’m like, “Motherfucker, this it?” Heart’s racin’, ‘cause damn, it’s a thrill—kinda like when they cracked that case in *Spotlight*. “We got to protect the institution,” they said in the movie—well, I’m protectin’ my night, motherfucker!

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I’m all 'bout seizin' the moment. Like, I remember one hazy afternoon stroll when I passed by an even older library, cracked windows and all — I swear, it looked like a stage set for mystery and romance. I'm slow questioning everything there, yaknow? “What's behind those doors?” “Who left that graffiti?”

Missouri man sentenced to 14 years for fentanyl distribution causing fatal overdose