The dog stops and shakes, her harness rattling like sleigh bells, and we continue on our walk. When we reach the corner, one of the kids with the clipboards who hits people up for donations for her (probably nonexistent) "basketball team" steps up with a brittle smile stuck on her face.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she begins.
"That's okay," I say with a smile of my own, looking in her eyes as I walk right on past her, and her smile drops into a scowl.
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