Linen and Lace.

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The doctor stands dejectedly at the graves of everyone in this torrid tale. His eyes rest on Midge's moss-infested gravestone. The inscription states simply:
"Here Lies Midge Jorbyn. Beloved Daughter, Friend, Mother, And."
This was not a typo. She is everything. She is the sun. She is the moon. She is...

MIDGE JORBYN.

The doctor's eyes swell with tears, protruding obscenely from the sockets. So much has changed in the years following The Accident. In his aged minds eye, he catches a glimpse of the spherical bringer of death that was the bullet. The single bullet that passed through each soul of the Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton, one by one. The conga line. The bullet. It is all coming back.

No... It can't be...
But it is.
He remembers who shot that bullet that fatal night.
"Oh yeah, Lin Manuel Miranda. I remember him" , the Doctor muses aloud.

Suddenly— a pressure on the back of his shoulder. Terrified, he whips around. His eyes must be deceiving him.

Transparent, and as ridden with jaundice as ever, Midge Jorbyn stands before him. He reaches out a hand to touch her yellow skin, but it passes right through.
"Hello Midgey-moo", he whispers.
The spectral Midge smiles matronly.
She puts a finger to his mouth. She says not a word, but the communication is clear.
"I lived. I died. And now I'm telling my story."
The words flow through the doctor like the toxic waste and smog that billows through the streets of New York City. He knows what he must do.

A small picture of Midge in her most sensual costume adorns the weathered grave. Without thinking, the doctor snatches the photo and turns it over. Upon it is written:

"My face is raw with tears. I can't breath. My stepdad Joffrey has hit me for the last time. Finally I've escaped him. I am wearing this."

"

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