"Are you selling girl scout cookies?" the woman I know to be Gilbert's daughter comes running from her minivan.
"Sure," I admit, even though I don't have extras on hand. Zelda does, though.
She comes up onto my porch and hands me exact change for a box of the peanut butter chocolate ones. "We bought two boxes and they're gone."
"I can dig it," I told her. If I didn't hide mine, they'd all be gone, too.
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