November 4, 2014

“In a past life, the man was a butcher. He worked in a refrigerated store, packing meat into containers, stacking it into display units. He piled meat on counters and left it in boxes. The man couldn’t get the smell of meat out of his nose. He sniffed and snorted but the meat smell was still there. It was a harsh stench. It was acidic. He went home to eat a steak and gagged at the brown-gray hunk on his plate. Every day, the man went into the land of meat and sniffed around. He jiggled the carcasses hanging from large meat hooks. He bumped against the many frozen slabs. His hands were bruised and bleeding from all the paper cuts he got from tearing sheets of waxed paper. Even worse, there were many times when he almost lost a finger.”

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