A half-stack doesn't fit in the trunk.

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a half-stack doesn't fit in the trunk


1. I’d heard some news about a shooting in Connecticut just before leaving to go get Leah as her half-day kindergarten was ending. At that point, they said two dead, sounded like probably a domestic dispute. Tragic, horrible, too common, really bad that it was at a school. It was only a little on my mind as I stood and talked to Natalie’s mom, whose house has just been ravaged by a stomach virus. The bell rang. The teacher stands at the door and only lets the kindergartners out when she sees an adult they belong to. It’s a small class, this is a small town. She let Leah go and waved at me. Nora stood there waiting, didn’t see her mom. Natalie’s mom said she’d watch Nora until her mom got there, but I said no, I got her, she was scheduled to come over to play with Leah at our house. Another wave from the teacher, all good—it’s a community. We all know each other and each other’s kids. I walked the two of them back to our house and listened to them talk about how Mrs. Claus makes clothes for kids because boys like Santa don’t know how to sew.

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