"I am staring into the bathroom mirror and I am steadying myself. The fluorescent lights strung overhead are glaring and eerie: exposing every pit mark, chicken pox scar and bump on my cheeks, forehead and neck.
Random cobwebs blow to and fro on the ceiling above, dancing on an unidentified breeze. I start to gear up, now bouncing on the balls of my feet, now throwing punches, now repeating my new mantra.
“Always be closing.”
I watch the words form on my lips. Spittle flies. My face contorts. I can say it louder than that. It doesn’t matter if I’m only saying it in my own head. I can be more amped. I can be more impassioned. I can be more convincing. It is my mantra and I need to sell it.
“Always be closing!”
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