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Dead Wrong

Rose handed the flower vase to her sister Ivy and wiped her eyes again. The dated funeral home room had striped grey and white wallpaper and dark blue carpet. Flower arrangements brightened the room and released the fresh aroma of a spring day. Her niece, Fern, entered, rushed over, and extended her arms to embrace the newly widowed Rose.         “Aunt Rose, I’m so sorry about Uncle Charlie.” She sniffled and squeezed her aunt’s shoulders tighter. “He was a great man. I can’t believe he was fine one day and gone the next.”          “Thank you, honey.” Rose pulled away and wiped her eyes. Fern cast a glance over her shoulder and ignored her mother standing less than five feet away. “At least Uncle Charlie is missed. Your grief is written all over your face. That’s more than I can say about my own Dad.”             Ivy stepped closer. “How can you say that, Fern” The bud vase in her hand shook about to spell the water on the floor.
Rose rescued the glass vessel and sat it on a tabl…

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