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Weekly Contest #34
Jane leaned heavily against the soft velvet lounge chair while she gazed out at the dreary garden. Everything, from the sagging pine trees lining the outskirts of the dark forest, to the plots of sulking motherwort and mandrake flowers were steeped in a heavy grey. Even Jane’s own reflection in the grand window panes of her grandmother’s library was pale and sad, like a bored ghost floating aimlessly. The sound of the rain endlessly rapping against the glass stuffed her ears like cotton, and made her thoughts muddled. For Jane, visits ...
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