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Beside Lorraine, her faithful husband held the knitted booties once intended for their stillborn babies, and beneath these was a box of Lorraine’s missing teeth, which rattled as the pair walked up the aisle.
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My toes curled together under the pathetic rag of a bedsheet, the frost creeping in through the two-inch deformity of the window on the left wall. I was tempted to sneak a glance at them to insure that they weren't black, but then decided that I'd…
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