“A taste like pennies on your tonsils. Then it all comes pouring out. Down your sweater. Nestled in the fibers.
Stray threads of spinach suspended in mucus. The tears were already coming down your face. No need to look: everyone is staring at you. Shirtless and tear-streaked, you crawl into a car you don't remember requesting. No one is worried about you tonight - they're already busy forgetting you!”
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