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That was the only word Jasmine Carter could find for it. Obscene. Rows upon rows of organic produce that looked like it had been individually polished by angels. Cheese displays that belonged in museums. A wine section that probably required a second mortgage just to browse.
"Linda." Jasmine stopped in front of a pyramid of imported Italian tomatoes, each one priced at what she used to spend on a week’s worth of vegetables. "These tomatoes have names. Individual nam ...
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