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Winter/Spring Vol 19.1
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"Unmarr(i)ed" by Abbie Doll
We went to her wedding on Wednesday, then her funeral the following Friday. We’d never seen her so happy—so joyously carefree—scattering smiles like petals down the aisle. From two brides to one widow…no one knew what to say. Death was a coat of paint that hadn’t dried, just applied. We went from boisterous bells to stifling silence; none of us knew consolations could come so soon after congratulations. A union established and expired in the time it takes to pass through the
Broadkill Review
3 days ago1 min read
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