Every time I cry -not tearing, but full on snotty nosed bawling- my armpits perspire profusely (with deodorant use mind you).
So on top of having to deal with a leaky nose and puffy eyes, the scent of misery enfolds my being. Sadness tastes strange but not unpleasant. The metallic tang with its bitter-sweet note. A symphony of revolt from multiple sensory modalities.
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