Dear neighbor,
I know you saw five-foot-two-inch me struggling. Stretching and straining in vain to get my fingers around the last spicy lentil wrap at our neighborhood Trader Joe’s. Its delicious sauce calling to me from the very, very back of the top shelf in the prepared foods section.
Oh yes, I know you saw me trying in vain to use some inferior sub-type sandwich to grab and drag that spicy lentil wrap to where I could reach it. But did you help? No. Instead, your six-foot-two-inch ass sidled right up as soon as I turned away in search of assistance. And you used your long arm to pluck it from the back of the shelf like a selfish ostrich.
Shame on you! This is not our way. In Capitol Hill, we help our neighbors. Even the short ones.
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