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Weekly Contest #362
As I pulled up in front of my dad’s bungalow. The lawn was mowed to golf-green lengths, the bushes were flowering in perfect synchrony and the house was in such good shape it could have been built yesterday, not many decades ago. I walked in through the screen door, passed the open front door and called “hello! Dad?!”. I dumped my sac of a purse on the old leather couch in the small living room and went into the kitchen. The inside also reflected my father, precision, order, and everything well maintained. It also meant the space was cut up ...
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