The clouds moved about really fast. Wind giving them speed. I looked out of the large window through the glass. Cars, buses, people zoomed past. I cleared the already clear glass to see a bit better. Just a habit. The stench reached my nostrils, raising tiny hairs on ends. I tried hard not to put my hands on the nose, not to vomit the pasta bake out, its red splashing the cream carpet. What would people say? Everyone loved it, wanted it every morning, every ten minutes.
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