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Weekly Contest #51
It was a dull morning in Seattle. Grey mist hung lightly in the air. Jackie Robinson strolled along the small paved streets of the Ballard neighborhood. He reached his destination: a red brick building with stained windows and old wooden doors. It was square_shaped and only rose 19 metres into the air. Jackie walked in. The hall inside the building was fifteen metres wide and was empty; Jackie could hear all sounds: a man excreting in a toilet nearby; a worker moping the stairs; and a secretary typing on a desktop computer on the reception...
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