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But in the end it was easier just to let him tear it up. She was already learning that her dreams would often end up in tiny pieces in the dustbin.
The aromas of roasted coffee and toasted teacakes mingle deliciously in the fuggy air.
New word...fuggy
The absence of God at an occasion like this seems strange to me: as if, without some form of ritual, the funeral is somehow invalid. But this is how Dad would have wanted it.
