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When New Year’s Eve Arrives
by: Anne M. Swepston
A Jessica McClintock cocktail gown hangs alone in my closet
draped on a quilted hanger, it finds comfort in
never having been worn. The tags are still
attached, much like the cobwebs, the back
lined with rhinestones, and a purse
to match. Someday I’ll wear
that dress and, after
sips of champagne,
the big
kiss.
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