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Fragrance Of A Bruised Rose
The nurses came in quietly, remorsefully keeping their rounds, collecting vitals with eyes averted. The holy hush of a sanctuary of silence greeted them in my room and left them tiptoeing through the...
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The Weeping Of The Evergreen
We cut it down, and placed it on the brush pile, a funeral bier, an altar that would soon reduce the offering to ash and smoke. Now, it was just a broken branch of deadened dry needles, but, once, not...
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