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May 7, 2006
It was the wrong day to be eating a bagel. The wrong day for his mouth to be churning, for cream cheese to be lingering on his lips, for him to be wiping crumbs away with the back of his hand and then to be licking the crumbs off, exposing a tongue sticky, gloppy, and white. The wrong day for the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in Manhattan to pass by the deli and catch him thus indisposed, seated in a booth by the window, and to look upon his messy mastication with a mixture of shock and revulsion.