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Weekly Contest #52
The flames had barely reached the roof. Now the only taste left on Asem’s lips was that of gin. There had been a taste of ashes, of smoke entirely drowned out by the all compassing smell of smoldering plastic as the fire began to lick at the power lines and to eat away at the insulation like a starved dog. But the flames had barely reached the roof, when he turned around. They had not touched the car at all, but even so he had not considered taking it. Maybe he should have. The night had been surprisingly cold, considering that it had star...
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