Black Satin: A Response to the Fourth Prompt

A black satin dress that was once my grandmother’s hangs in my closet. It’s wrinkled at the edges, but soft and firm, a silver zipper lining the center of its back.

When my grandmother passed, we wrapped her in russet taffeta and put marigolds in her hair.

But I like to picture her life: all brown curls and red lips, a dancer in 1960’s Paris.

I like to picture her in our black satin dress, tangoing through sunsets and waltzing through blue skies.

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