Excerpt, work in progress

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Her surviving brother and sister were so angry that they no longer spoke to her, her husband had passed away before I met her, and her two stillborn daughters were buried in a little graveyard behind the house, with their father and their grandparents and great-grandparents. It did not disturb me. I walked there often, and helped Miss Marian keep up the graves and the markers. We had built new wooden crosses ourselves because the old ones were rotting, painted them white, and I painted the names because she suffered with tremors in both hands.

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