That day I didn’t call Josie. I called nobody, in fact. I locked myself in my room all day. As I slept I dreamt of my grandmother’s bright blue eyes, like my mother’s and mine, her light blonde hair and her porcelain skin. Her Majesty Queen Glorie Hyppolyte. I remembered her bedtime stories about Princess Madeleine, a princess who did everything to save and bring victory her country. Princess Madeleine would hike to top of Mont-Blanc with nothing but a nightgown in the middle of the night; she would win the women’s Decathlon at the Olympic Games; and she would stand in the middle of a battlefield courageously yelling for peace. “And all with good manners and perfectly groomed hair”, she used to say. Really, my grandmother was Princess Madeleine. She fought for her country until the very end; when a horrendous, vile, depraved small vermin took her life. She was 61-years-old.
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