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Weekly Contest #231
It was 1:54 in the morning. The first 1:54 of the new year. The warm, social buzz that was once present had been replaced by a thick, salty haze of steam and butter. The haze was paired with a symphony of flickering ceiling lights. Marisa didn’t see the appeal of such a gaudy celebration. To her, work ethic was a necessity, not a privilege. The idea of a single day with the sole purpose of forgiving the lousy output of a person, for the exchange of a possible shot at redemption struck a chord with Marisa’s principles. State tuition in F...
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