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When blood is nipped and ways be foul
“She stood there, shuddering in place. She shook from the cold, from the fear, from the pain. She shook for what she had lost — something she knew could not be put back. For she now understood that Fear was not something lodged in her chest like shrapnel, but rather something that was taken away.”
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Hamnet and Sentimental Value
A Nass writer explores grieving through cathartic performance, and the porous boundary between life and art.