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I saw her in the hallway. She was like a blur at first and then I was forced to focus. She came lumbering towards me, all 300 lbs of momma’s good cookin.’ Big, white teeth. Flailing arms wobbling like jello in a bowl. Charcoal hair carelessly sticking out chaotically in all directions. She halted abruptly like a cartoon character. 

“Shake my hand!”  She demanded. 

I hesitated, then obliged. 

 

 

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