It's not the death act that gets me - the puzzling evaporation of glimmer from someone's eyes, the curious coldness of rigor mortis, the wax figure creeping you out by closely resembling someone you know. Nor is it the camera panning up and out from someone's micronarrative, reminding you that it was one of many subway cars of many subway trains,
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Morgan's grandmother just passed last month. I tell myself that we're hitting "that age" where it's going to start happening more frequently; when in reality, it's actually just a constant.
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