Miranda was in the back of the closet, flicking through what seemed to be the millionth rack of clothing that night, growing frustrated, tired, and angry with herself. She was looking for an evening gown she remembered from either fall of 1978 or spring of 1979. She had a fantastic memory for clothing (for everything really, it was a near
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This was an awesome first chapter and set everything up brilliantly ;-)
I'm really looking forward to reading more soon!
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