The Seventh Descent
ACT I The first time I fell, I was twenty-three years old and standing in a room that smelled of old paper and lavender, and the woman who had been my fiancée for eleven months was signing a marriage license with a man whose name I would not learn for another three weeks. Her name was Eileen. Eileen Murphy—Irish immigrant, third generation, Dublin accent that softened when she was nervous and...
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