The New Yorker -
22 Nov 2016 23:27
The day of the lottery was bright and sunny; the flowers outside Doose’s Market were blossoming exactly on Taylor Doose’s schedule and the grass was a brilliant green. Not the showy, self-conscious sort of green you might find in New Haven or Waterford; not the sort of green that called attention to itself. Just the right amount of green, that’s how green the grass was in Stars Hollow. Everyone gathered in the main square between Luke’s Diner (closed for the holiday, but with an urn of f...
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