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I fled to the graveyard, seeking the final resting place of the mother I’d never known. I thought the strange green lights must be Gwendolyn and her cronies come to taunt me until a ghoulish figure emerged from behind a tombstone, a tangle of snakes about her head. With a bony finger she beckoned me: “Daughter, what beautiful hair!”
which, by sheer serendipity, is the exact match of September’s total.