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Elena’s cheek, light as a butterfly wing.
Elena did not move.
She let the child’s hand rest there.
Tears gathered in her eyes, then fell.
She did not wipe them away.
Sometimes tears were beautiful too.
They meant a person could still feel.
They meant a person was still alive.
In the doorway, Lucia and Mia stood watching hand in hand.
Their eyes were no longer continue reading …
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