I did it AGAIN. This time I cried while reading the part about the Holocaust – and can you blame me? I mean, I’d be a cold and soulless (soul-less?) person if I weren’t moved by literature about first-person experiences of mass genocides – but I was sitting in the little area where all the stressed execs gather to read/nap/talk loudly and inappropriately on their cell phones, and there’s just no way to quietly convey to the accountant who uncomfortably recoils away from you when he realizes that your eyes are dripping and you’re shaking with the effort to keep in the sobs so you don’t make those around you uncomfortable during their lunch breaks. So I might have to instigate a new rule for myself. No more Holocaust literature at work, or while commuting. Does anyone have any Dr. Seuss I can borrow? I need whimsy. Now.
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