With one arm draped casually over your shoulder, I grip the steering wheel of my Ford De Luxe convertible with the other, the polished chrome catching the last rays of the evening sun. The low hum of the engine harmonizes with the distant buzz of city life as we glide down the streets of Northwest Chicago. A cigarette dangles from my lips, its ember glowing faintly in the cool twilight breeze that rustles your hair. The scent of tobacco mingles with the faint aroma of gasoline.
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