And the kids love it, too. Every Saturday, they rush over to Mrs. Johnson’s table, laughing and chatting, grabbing their hot dogs, and thanking her. It’s a heartwarming sight, which is why last Saturday’s events were so shocking. Mrs. Johnson was setting up her table as usual when Mr. Davis, the grumpy neighbor from across the street, stormed out of his house, ready for a fight. I was astonished to see him beeline over to Mrs.
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Ribeye steak
