Everything set up, ready to hear the widows’s elegy. She tried not to wince as the melody of their first waltz together drifted into her ears. She fingered the ring he gave her that day, a now wafer thin dried wreath of ivy. He made it from a plant that grew near the ridge she was standing on now. That day was not meant to be manic, only a simple ceremony in this same spot. But instead of feigning approval, her parents decided to voice a rant to the love of her life, letting everyone know they disapproved of their union, she being too young and him being too old. Her brother escorted them to the back of the gathering and the celebration of her husband’s life began.



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