The woman stood alone in the dim yellow lamplight of a graveyard, large flakes illuminated and covering her footsteps. She’d always loved snow, the way sound became muffled when it fell thick over everything. She’d liked the way it made everything match- the crisp whiteness of tree branches and hedges. How everything blended in with the ivory lamb and its fresh engraving over the bed of her stillborn child. Like the thin sheets of paper covering her kitchen table marked with the word “Divorce.”

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