My Sister Is the Bride at My Wedding
"
Her words left the three of them frozen in place.
As the thin, black-clad woman walked away with my urn, the trio didn't follow her.
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream."
As the rain gradually stopped, sunshine shone down on the earth.
Rebecca hummed the childhood nursery rhyme we used to sing together. Her steps grew lighter, faster. The wind carried the scent of freedom.
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