Ron moved the large black duffel bag from his shoulder to the car's trunk. His stomach continued to grumble; the sandwich and soup had done nothing to settle it. He felt through the bag and checked the items off his mental checklist: boots, belt, red velvet pants, and matching coat. He felt the rough texture of the bag's bottom and thought hard. "I knew I was missing something!" He ran back into the house, through the hallway, and into the master bathroom. There it was, the long white beard unmoved from where he had tried it on last night, right in front of the big old mirror.
He grabbed it at once, returned to the car, stuffed the beard into the bag, and closed the trunk. Through the half-defrosted window, Ron caught a glimpse of his grandson, already buckled, ready to go. The boy lit up when he saw his grandpa making funny faces at him.
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