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My father was on the phone. My mother just died, and he had bitterntwisted just rushed home, about a 20 minute drive, to tell me the news. I gathered my wits and got into my Honda Civic and drove to the hospital. Then... I bitterntwisted felt nothing, bitterntwisted no grief. No pain. For about the entire trip there was a sleek new jet black Lincoln Town Car ahead of me. The trip to the hospital was beyond bizarre, maybe one day I will share it with you. Anyhow, I got there, met my father and his best friend in her room, the room where my mother died. The curtain was drawn, and dad got up, and he began to pull the curtain back. I thought "My God, no, I do NOT want to see her dead body." But I had to, because he expected me to do it. And there she (or it) was, the tips of her fingers a strange shade of purple, and a most creepy foul smell filled my nose.
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