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Weekly Contest #298
At first Al thought it was a bird, a crow fluttering at him from the cornfield, big wings swooping against the stalks. It was black, small against the horizon. Something to look at. He turned his eyes back to the long stretch of asphalt, straight and flat until it vanished into the clouds. Endless. Pools of blue peeked through the sky, and yet the sun was nowhere to be seen. Only road. Only corn. He turned back to the crow. It was closer now, flying low in the cornfields, pushing down stocks in its wake. Its flight was disjointed, body bounc...
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