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Salesmanship, With Half A Dram Of T
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Gripping the lectern, rocking it, searching the faces for the souls, for signs of heartfelt mindfulness at work, I thought, as I recited words I wrote in tears: instead of tears, if I had understood my father's business, I could be selling men's clothes. I could be kneeling, complimenting someone at the bay of mirrors, mumblingly, with pinpoints pressed between my lips. That was the life I held
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