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Yesterday morning as I was buying a cup o’ Joe from 7-Eleven—-sorry, I can’t abide the bitter, over-roasted cups sold at Starbucks—-I was surprised to see the clerk with a small hunk of rolled napkin stuffed up her right nostril. As she rang up my purchase, she was rolling another ripped sheet of napkin to ram up her left nostril.

She handed me my change and stood there, tall and dusky and attractive, with two white wads dangling from her snoot. I couldn’t let the moment pass. I asked if she had a bloody nose. Nope, she said, just a “runny nose.”

I wished her a speedy recovery and walked out, past the line of cold medicines behind the counter.