I raised my tea cup, smiling. “All I know is Margaret did what made her happy.
Isn’t that what you wanted for her?”
A month later, I stood at the airport with her photo album tucked into my carry-on. My first destination was Paris.
As the plane soared above the clouds, I pulled out the album and flipped through the pages. There was Margaret, laughing in the sunshine, raising a glass in some charming café.
“This one’s for you, Margaret,” I whispered, raising a tiny plastic cup of champagne.
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Source: amomama
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