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Every day, as the owner — carrying his overpowering onion stench — stepped out of the elevator, you could feel the tension rise and witness the fake smiles appear. He would kiss the young women on their rosy cheeks, lingering just a little too long, leaving behind a whiff of saliva with a garnish of onions. I quickly learned to hide — either in my office, another hallway, or in the bathroom. I wasn’t alon…
Eunice Rabert Hernández
Michele Maize
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Ewwwww - that's just gross and weird!!
Sober Traveler | Wannabe Vegan | Yoga Addict. Dog-loving extrovert turned introvert. Owner of "The Maze". Editor at Black Bear and Globetrotters.
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