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In the wake of Avengers: Endgame this past weekend, a true hero emerged. A hero that gave its life so the rest of us might find peace.
That hero ... was a big-ass wad of Kleenex. (Or whatever facial tissue you prefer — we're not out here shilling for big Kleenex, and as I intend to see Endgame again, I welcome any and all of that fresh free tish action.)
Without spoiling anything, I'll just tell you I cried so hard that it deeply concerned those around me. I'll just tell you I cried so hard that even I wasn't certain that this article wasn't about me. I'll just tell you that I cried so hard that I salted the popcorn with my own tears.
And what I didn't have ... was Kleenex. Meaning my Captain Marvel sweatshirt was more wet makeup and snot residue than actual fabric.
So when you make the long sob-filled voyage to your local cineplex to see Avengers: Endgame, please. For the love of all things holy (Captain America's ass, specifically) bring some damn Kleenex.