—By the end everything was disgusting. Like, his kitchen was disgusting, the way he wiped the counters with his hand or, like, a dry piece of kitchen roll, the fucking smell of his fridge was disgusting, and his cheap plasticky knives and the way he sipped his tea with his top lip hooked over the rim of his mug like a grappling hook. -What? —Yeah, like, even the way he walked and stood with his knees locked together. -When did this start? —What? His knee thing? -No, you being literally repulsed by his very being. —Oh, like, from the beginning.
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LOL and on the button