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Weekly Contest #42
The snow fell like the ash of an apocalyptic dream; the kind of dream that sets the soul free instead of leaving it trapped behind a ribcage. I walked the length of the path, the snow falling in the holes of my sweater, spreading cold across my skin like a disease. The pressure increased behind my eyes and my eye lashes grew heavy. I bit my lip and took an abrupt left. I focused on the soft crunch of my boots on the grass, which was still fresh and not frozen, a mix...
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