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POSTSCRIPTUM

        Or nearly all. O isn’t, quite.

        I or.

        It o notice. I epping in and out of it, toying    on my socks and cardiga, and stared tohe door behind me.

        S as a golden angel, nor as ter of deatallis notice if sreet.

        t I    to ask    I o o her side.

        ‘Moira,“ I mao    real.“

        But s mine,    . Scar to scar ous faded as I felt    beat     of , great and calm; and I kne I remembered t . try. t oday, no I , miraculous.

        Sogether.

        I uood t so say good-bye. t ime    it o    t meeting    be for a very long time. t and so could I.

        I felt toucears, twined. ness.

        Such joy.

        No matter t s stay. She had e. She had e.

        I’m not sure . I simply realized t s on te calm, quite    tion of my blood rerouting itself, of my    recalibrating its beat for me aloouc it alive; no cooled until it felt no different from t of my body.

        S see he grave. My life was my own.

        In tcase, S out my o stroke , t again.
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