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Sunday Drive Every other Sunday, we go to your mother’s for lunch. That, and my potato salad recipe, is one of the reasons your mom says I’m her “favorite son-in-law.” This Sunday, we’re actually ready to head over there a bit early. It’s a nice spring day. You’re wearing a light dress, and you’re about to open the door when I say, “Stop.” You’re well-trained, so your hand freezes, fingers still lightly touching the handle. “What?” you say. “Why?” “I said, stop...”
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