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The Apartment #177


The lip swung loosely before falling. He tried to catch it with his mouth, but failed and it lay wormlike in his dessert bowl, adding a vivid raspberry flourish. Greasy fingers retrieved it and pushed it into his mouth.
His other hand, still gripping the embedded fork, worked it backwards and forwards. Slices of cheek fell away. He stabbed at his nose time after time until that too, in varying sizes, fell into his lap.
He glanced around apologetically, as if he'd just allowed a little caviar to fall. But no one noticed. They were all eating their own flesh.

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