She knew the rhyme, ‘One for sorrow, two for joy…’ but wasn’t superstitious of the magpie who visited her each day; she had had enough sorrow to fill a hundred lifetimes, so one magpie couldn’t alter that. The magpie always welcomed her to the garden with a rattling caw and perched on the wooden chair next to her as she read her book in the warm sunshine. Eventually, to her sorrow, he fell asleep in her lap and didn’t wake. Her heart broke for the last time and her eyes closed, as the sun shone and the birds sang.
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