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The cemetery was old, one of those places where the headstones tilted at odd angles and moss grew thick on them.
Milo clutched a shopping bag in her palms and clasped them together.
"Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord," she whispered. "And let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace, Amen."
She reached into the bag and pulled out a single white lily.
It fell softly onto the grave, settling among the others she’d left over time.
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