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Dark, long, still tied with the purple elastic.
A ripple of horror moved through the audience.
“This was her braid,” I said. “She had been growing it since she was three.”
Vanessa stepped toward me.
“Rachel,” she said into her headset mic, voice thin and shaking. “This is not the place.”
I looked at her.
“No,” I said. “Your bathroom was not the place.”
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