Mitt Isn’t Ready to Call It Quits
“Hey, Ann, can you come here a sec?” Mitt Romney called out, sinking into the cushions of a walnut-colored easy chair, his legs outstretched on a matching ottoman. Romney’s blue work shirt was tucked into faded jeans; sockless ankles peeked out from his New Balance sneakers. He paused as Ann Romney entered from the kitchen, where she was baking chocolate-chip cookies. “Sweetie,” he continued, “what are some of the items we gave away at the Yankee swap?”
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