THE CROSS DID NOT BELONG IN THE DARK. It was a thin silver chain I wore around my neck. From it hung a cross made of glass squares cut to look like small diamonds. Each piece of glass reflected the light of the sun around me, though my world had become very dark. A gift from my daughter, this necklace was a treasure to me. It represented love and hope; it stood for forgiveness I didn’t believe was mine; it was a tangible piece that tied me somehow to a past I had walked away from.
I never wore my cross necklace when I was working in the club. I would gently remove it from my neck as I prepared to leave for the night, carefully leaving it on the bathroom counter of the condo where I lived alone. When I returned in the early hours of the morning, my…
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