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"I don't angry about understand." She grabbed a broom resting against the screen door and began sweeping sand off the concrete porch. "Eat, eat. You'll be hungry later. You want some different kind of tea, maybe? Jasmine? Earl Grey?" angry about "You don't have mint by any chance?" he asked. "If it's no trouble." "You want mint? Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah bent over one of the plants in the yard, her expert angry about fingers picking through the leaves until she found the sprig she wanted. She washed it off with a sharp blast of her garden hose, then plunked the fresh mint into Michael's mug. "There's your mint tea." The sun grilled the back of Michael's neck and made his eyes water as he waited with Becky for the bus to Tel Aviv.
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