The accident played out like a slow-motion action scene in a blockbuster summer movie. A blown tire, the car spinning to the right, wheel cranked to the left, overcompensating. A deafening crash into the guardrail, sparks raining down as it flew into the air.

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Sixty-two years. To Mabel, it seemed like just yesterday that she had walked down the church aisle, a bouquet of tulips in her hands. Jack looked so handsome waiting at the altar in his dress blues, his smile as wide as the Golden Gate.

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