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One More Minute
I followed the soft piano music to the vast open room, passing unfamiliar faces with each step I took. As I stood still in the doorway, I noticed a long line growing against the wall. I proceeded to the back, placing my hand on each pew I went by. Looking down at the dark red carpet, I listened to the stories being told around me. While they mere gentle whispers through my ears, the room felt loud. My shiny black dress shoes caught a reflection from up ahead. I raised my eyes to see a man watching a young girl play with a doll. His smile brought out the wrinkles on his tan face. I turned around to see the line building behind me, securing me in my spot. I kept slowly creeping up closer to the front. When I inspected my shoes again, the reflection changed. As I carefully scanned the image, I noticed the man appeared different. His hair shined gray, but his smile did not change; however, this time, it caused the wrinkles on his face to deepen. A teenage girl sat beside him, holding his hand. Her eyes were locked on him, watching him closely, with her long hair pushed behind her ear. Each time the picture changed, the girl clung closer to him; holding him tighter. When I looked away from the changing screen, I arrived at the front. I saw the girl standing in front of me, a tear running from her face, looking down at the shiny silver casket that held the man inside. My heart pounded as I stepped closer to hear her whisper: “I wish I could have just one more minute.”
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