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Show CHRYSALIS PAGE 213 know, except Sien. I know that somewhere there waits a six-foot-deep hole cut in the wet earth, and soon all traces of Sien's grave will vanish in flat grass, and only a marble stone will remain to tell her name, her life and death. I watch a fly crawl along the top of the pew in front of me, and up the dark, beaded veil of a woman with a bent head. It flies from one bent head to another. No one seems to notice. It lights and strolls tentatively along the back of my hand. I let it stay. Sien's last, cheerful cry had been, "Life has its purpose." Yes. Had my life been different, I would be a different person. I'm not sure I'd want that. I rather like the person I have become. (Am becoming?) Nate Haim will come tomorrow. L'Chaim. To Life. I've been researching hemophilia all day preparing for Nate's visit. I've discovered that hemophilia is not the disease of "royalty," that bleeding to death from a simple scratch is |