Very short story.

There’s this man at the office. He’s disturbing. Well, from what I gather. We don’t work directly with each other and I only see him in passing: by the copier, in the break room, shit like that. Anyway, he just gives off this aura that he keeps body parts jarred in his freezer. He smells of cold coffee and stale farts and when he walks he mumbles inaudibly to himself.

I was sitting in my car one morning, dreading another day in that shit zoo of an office while listening to Elvis Duran when I look up to see that he’s parked in the spot in front of me and to the left. No eye contact was made, thank god. I concluded that I would try and maintain this winning status. After making a few quick glances I saw him looking down and making some uncomfortable (to me) movements, concluding I had no idea what the fuck he was doing. And then it happened.

He spit in his hand and went back to work.


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