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By AnonymMargot Mccuaig
Anything could happen in the company of a woman whose usual status is ‘apparition’.
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By AnonymMargot Mccuaig
We sat still, our breathing loud and rhythmic, its music melancholy, a traditional song of sorrow.
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By AnonymMargot Mccuaig
When you least expect it, you run in to an old friend from school, or the neighbour’s cat, not Mary the Virgin Mother of God.
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