Monday, February 18, 2008

AN OPEN LETTER

To the woman crocheting on the Light Rail:
I see you. Stop coughing like that. Ew. You think I looked up because someone behind me uttered profanity, but the truth is that my ipod is far too loud for that. It is so loud that I am flabbergasted that I can hear you hacking over my music. I'm watching you, lady, and I saw you cough all over the seat and into the air between us. Sweet, precious air, that was previously uncontaminated! I can smell your germs over here, lady.
Do you know what your germs smell like? They smell like death. They smell like achey limbs, high temperatures, days missed from class. Those germs smell like agony and intense emotional angst. If you don't mind I'd appreciate it if you keep your toxic germs to yourself during flu season, and every season.
Sincerely,
Disgruntled Passenger

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