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Weekly Contest #288
Detective Micah Thompson smoked a cigarette under the cover of an aging black oak while he studied his target. The grey February sky had finally broken open and rain burst out in thick, swollen drops. His target sat at a small round table beneath the awning of a cafe across the street. Micah watched as the man rose, tucked some cash beneath the salt shaker, and headed toward town. Micah tossed his cigarette and flipped his coat collar up. He buried his hands deep into the pockets and followed. Hunched forward, Micah stepped with purpos...
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