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ped right in my way and put her arms out like she's
guarding the goal。
She chased me and blocked me again。 “What happened?” she wants to know。 “Did they
break?”
Perfect。 Why hadn't I thought of that? “Yeah; Juli;” I told her。 “And I'm real sorry about that。”
But what I'm thinking is; Please; God; oh please; God;
let me make it to the garbage can。
God must've been sleeping in。 Juli tackled the trash and pulled out her precious little carton
of eggs; and she could tell right off that they weren't
broken。 They weren't even cracked。
She stood frozen with the eggs in her hands while I dumped the rest of the trash。 “Why did
you throw them out?” she asked; but her voice didn't
sound like Juli Baker's voice。 It was quiet。 And shaky。
So I told her we were afraid of salmonella poisoning because her yard was a mess and that
we were just trying to spare her feelings。 I told it to
her like we were right and she was wrong; but I felt like a jerk。 A plete cluck…faced jerk。
Then she tells me that a couple of neighbors have been buying eggs off her。 Buying them。
And while I'm ing to grips with this incredible bit of
news; she whips out her mental calculator。 “Do you realize I've lost over a hundred dollars
giving these eggs to you?” Then she races across the
street in a flood of tears。
As much as I tried to tell myself that I hadn't asked her for t
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