Below our apartment is a little market, owned by a nice Korean gentlemen with two cats that we have a head-nodding, "hello, thank you, goodbye" relationship with. Sometimes he is gone, and one of two woman are running the show. This is also when things get weird. Last night, Heather ran down to the market to grab a couple beers. As she was leaving, the woman called her back and insisted she take these (pictured). Assuming they were handwipes, Heath obliged, thanked her, and moved on.
ONLY...THOSE ARE NOT HANDWIPES!
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