I will miss them. I dont even know their names, but I know I will. Long after the last gorah has left the building, we talk about cricket and Calcutta, about Sachin, Shoaib, Sanath, Satyam and SAIL. I will miss the smell of paratas and aloo gobi in the pantry during lunch time. I will miss having someone to help me with Excel macros. I will miss being the best looking South Asian on the floor, instead of the only South Asian.
But,
I WILL NOT FUCKING MISS THOSE SOCKS. HOW CAN A GIRL WEAR SOCKS?
Sigh. It was sweet in a moronic kind of way.
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