When Sam Let the Whores Out
Seems Betsy was on a creative jag 
July 1902
Every day, after chores, she watched from her window. Now, finally, her mysterious neighbors were gingerly stepping outside, their feathers fluttering in the breeze, their jewelry tinkling like celestial bells. Their sunless existence had made their skin glow like iridescent pearls.
She dropped to her knees, crossing herself.
“Mama,” she whispered reverently. “Angels…”
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