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Seven: The Ceremony
Meline came up the stairs in a silver-gray dress. She was nobody’s formal anything that day. She was the whole bride’s side condensed into one woman, and she sat down in the chair where my mother should have been.
“Hair up,” she said. “Hands still. This is a wedding, not a trial. Both can happen on the same day.”
At one o’clock, I continue reading …
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