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Weekly Contest #31
The line to the cash register was colossal even before the Cohens added into it; Estelle abhorred shopping on Friday night. Her son, George, hated it even more than she did. He wanted his blanket, he wanted his dinner, he wanted something other than this woman, this mother. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted. He thrashed and screamed and wailed in Estelle’s arms, earning well-deserved glares from all the other hot, tired, and angry men and women of New York City. Her other son, Thomas, placidly watched ...
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