I wrote a post very similar to this one in theme actually a few years ago minus the sex in the car thing about a homeless man who lived in Osborne Village in Winnipeg. This post about the prostitute made me think about him. Thank you, La La for making me remember how lucky we really are. My post can be found in the html link here.
Of all the corners in Baltimore City, Helen chose my Hampden corner for turning tricks. She was tall, wore a sports bra and rocked a fancy, champagne blonde 80’s-esque hairstyle.
She yelled at inanimate objects and one time was behind me in line at Rite Aid when I dropped my wallet. She picked it up for me, introduced herself and said she had my back.
Once, I saw her checking car doors while singing “Rush, Rush” by Paula Abdul. Two days later, I forgot to lock my car and the next morning I was greeted by a douche in my cup holder and cigarette ashes all over my front seat (which, by the way, was set down and back and likely used for sexual activity. My car was cleaned vigorously for a couple of weeks after that).
When I saw the douche, I had a flashback to the…
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