mingling

That repulsive smell of too many lunches mingling in the faculty room.
Little lunches. Big lunches. Lunches planned with excruciating detail. Lunches warmed in the microwave. Lunches raised from the air tight near dead of little tupperware coffins. Garlic. Low Fat Low Nonsense Dressing. Pasta noodles. God, so much pasta.

Individually, they might be alright. That garlic bread or Mexican dish might smell good on its own. But together, it's just too much. Like a floral headache from Macy's.

Little lunches in plastic bags. Lunches from houses filled with little screaming children. Lunches from houses full of fat people who eat salad every day. Lunches from people who *gasp* live in sin with their significant others. Lunches from houses whose people choose every piece of deli meat with care- eyeing the ounces- forming the curls and folds of honey roasted ham like some kind of private art. From houses full of cat hair. Lunches for people who won't keep it down. Lunches from houses full of fighting and lunches from houses full of too much nothing.

Houses full of little lives and big lives and pungent smells that, together, are just too much.