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An Italo western. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over a dusty frontier town. Two women stand face-to-face in the middle of a deserted street, their long coats billowing slightly in the dry wind. Wide-brimmed cowboy hats cast shadows over their eyes, but their sharp, unflinching stares say everything. Their hands hover over the worn grips of their revolvers, fingers twitching, waiting for the perfect moment. A tumbleweed drifts lazily between them, the only thing moving as the townsfolk watch from behind wooden shutters, holding their breath. The saloon sign creaks, a lone harmonica wails in the distance, and then—silence. The duel is seconds away from erupting, tension thick as dust in the air., (Closeup, view from below:1.3), (nudity:1.4)

An Italo western. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over a dusty frontier town. Two women stand face-to-face in the middle of a deserted street, their long coats billowing slightly in the dry wind. Wide-brimmed cowboy hats cast shadows over their eyes, but their sharp, unflinching stares say everything.
Their hands hover over the worn grips of their revolvers, fingers twitching, waiting for the perfect moment. A tumbleweed drifts lazily between them, the only thing moving as the townsfolk watch from behind wooden shutters, holding their breath.
The saloon sign creaks, a lone harmonica wails in the distance, and then—silence. The duel is seconds away from erupting, tension thick as dust in the air., (Closeup, view from below:1.3), (nudity:1.4) An Italo western. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over a dusty frontier town. Two women stand face-to-face in the middle of a deserted street, their long coats billowing slightly in the dry wind. Wide-brimmed cowboy hats cast shadows over their eyes, but their sharp, unflinching stares say everything.
Their hands hover over the worn grips of their revolvers, fingers twitching, waiting for the perfect moment. A tumbleweed drifts lazily between them, the only thing moving as the townsfolk watch from behind wooden shutters, holding their breath.
The saloon sign creaks, a lone harmonica wails in the distance, and then—silence. The duel is seconds away from erupting, tension thick as dust in the air., (Closeup, view from below:1.3), (nudity:1.4)

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Repairman

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