...and in steps Western Medicine, much to my dismay. After a solid week of illness and growing proof that whatever virus it was had morphed into some style of bacterial infection (ew), I caved and went to a doctor
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Is when people refuse to accept that they have made a mistake, and they react by claiming a qualifying factor that they just "failed to mention" at the moment of the mistake in order to shift the blame
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The first hour was family only. The casket was half open. I'd half-forgotten until I half-turned in the room and jumped in my skin like electricity had burned through my veins. I spent the next 45 minutes neatly angled, glimpsing only her profile from a distance
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So, since I have to be all approriate, I dyed my hair. A brown without any reds or oranges or auburns. A brown by Feria, named "espresso". Stephen chose it for me, with his artist's eyes. And holy mother of all that is true
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