the last row who still believed the day somehow revolved around them. I woke at five Saturday morning. I made coffee. Then I sat on my front porch and watched fog move through the garden. The lavender along the path had survived the first cold nights.
My grandmother used to say lavender was tougher than people gave it credit for. I had two messages waiting. From Franco: Ready when you are, kid. Tie is straight. From Marcos: See you at the end of the aisle. I’ll be the guy who
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