There’s a man scraping his shovel along the sidewalk in front of his house. His son is there too, by the look of him he longs for the playground down the street, it’s filled with the shrieks of a snowball fight. But he’s stuck. The man stops and leans on his shovel. “When people pass by you gotta make nice,” he insists. He mimes a little as he demonstrates, “Hel-lo, how ya doin, this and that.”
The kid kicks a block of ice into the snowbank. He is not convinced.
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