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Woman with a Veil 7
Jess returned home under a five-grey sky with no one waiting stoic with open arms, and a car with windows up for dry conversation. More returning women walked by and past, and one offered a ride driven by an older sister parked in slanted sideways. Never acting the shy ones, all three merged, bettered war-roads driven.…
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Woman with a Veil 6
Gwen feels eternity erupt in sound when she's tilting into arms of strangers. She's placed onto an empty stretcher found when the past occupant died beside her. The screams filling moments of pain just found are a last sensation she would defer, but who schedules these instants must be crowned a tin man, or a martial…
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Woman with a Veil 5
Gwen's leave ends, and she carries a few rips in her veiled hat that slipped drunk as she sipped wine (unknown), ate cheese (unknown), on her trip away from torn boys, sewn boys with breath stripped. Schedules of surgery ignore curfew, but those in charge hold the needle to sew what the knife deemed acceptable. The shrew…
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Woman with a Veil 4
Gwen's velvet green hat, reluctantly black with a veil before her eyes of squares packed like a mathematician's fabrics, back folds of strength. A virtue she doesn't lack. Jess teased out US blues in a southern dialect no soldier or civilian within five war-torn miles would understand, but men throw strings her words pull…
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Woman with a Veil 3
The woman with a veil walks Paris bright as if born in the outskirts. Nursing night and day she is given leave from front lights of surgery closings blessed infinite. Such coffee, such treats unavailable in Bellevue, Washington where her stable choices jailed sit at her parents' table, but here her French flows in war-torn…