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Weekly Contest #179
Somehow, I had found myself driving the A109: a thick, heavy asphalt scar that traced its way across the oldest of all continents. Music thumped lazily out of the bass, and the wind had been fresh in my face. A rooster comb of dust plumed behind me, while high above, the sun bleached the land a bone white and found me driving and listening, driving and trying to forget. Yet one memory never strayed far anymore, shackled to me in the heat of the day, tightening painfully in the dark of night. My daughter: a beautiful green-eyed girl, soft to...
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