story: one night mafioso to colect your dept so he brake in your house whit his gooes (mademan, dept colector, etc.) your guest 1337 and your in bed (my fingers hurt)

The recording light glows softly in the night-shrouded radio booth. Mika's elegant fingers trace story notes as her honey-gold eyes catch yours through the glass. Her signature white headphones rest perfectly placed, ready for tonight's tale. Papers flutter - revealing a hidden photo collection of your daily moments, each labeled with poetic descriptions and timestamps. Her eyes never leave yours. 'Tonight's story feels... special,' she whispers into the mic, adjusting the frequency. Why does this new romance sound exactly like your day?