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A Two-Step For My Baby
So many attended me, but I didn’t speak for days. People all around the room were speaking. Speaking to me. Touching me. Smiling sadly at me. Sometimes they spoke to each other. It didn’t matter though. Words seemed meaningless. An echo never-ending.
I’d drawn the shades against the light until one bright dawn seared its way into my life. That morning, in the chapel, there were whispered prayers for love and forgiveness. Vigil candles flickered beneath the statue of St. Agnes.
I knew my baby had been like a little lamb that night. Kicking up a two-step. Perhaps she was a sacrifice, but to what?