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His skin was the belly of a chip bag, greasy, and shiny, crinkly in places. If you licked it you could taste the grease, the salt that spread over him, and I was reminded of those deer you see at salt licks, opening their mouth’s slowly and sticking their tongues out, softly letting the crystals dissolve on their tongues. You know deer need salt to survive. You know we need salt to survive.