“Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me . . .” I didn’t know what grace was, but maybe it sounded like the music. Maybe that was what I was feeling. How sweet the sound. And it was sweet, impossibly so. How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. Was a wretch the same thing as a bitch? Or a slut? My life was not a testament to being saved from anything. It was not a testament to love—not anybody’s love. My head firmly rejected the idea. Grace wouldn’t save me. But in the tiny, neglected corner of my heart, freshly awakened by the music, I suddenly believed it might.
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