She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror.
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