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Suddenly, I began to cry. Not a dainty drop or two, but big, fat, ugly ones that make your cheeks scrunch up from the heat of them. I was certain my face was turning purple. Snot slowly began to melt, threatening: "We'll do it, we swear. We're getting nice and liquidy!" Rabbi Silverman quickly left the table, secular went off somewhere, and was back in no time with a box of tissues. And thank God it was full. "I'm… secular I'm s-s-sorry," I babbled. "It's secular okay," he said kindly, though I could detect a weight to his voice. Bare shoulders bobbing up and down, I filled the flimsy tissue with a pint of fluid from various cranial orifices. I sucked in a bunch of air that tripped in my throat on its way down, and stared, eyes weighing a ton, at my embarrassed knees. I could tell they were embarrassed because they were naked in a House of God (Orthodox no less), and they were turning blotchy and red like they were crying, too.
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