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Weekly Contest #359
We meet in a dream, Charlotte and I, in a quiet cafe at the end of a vacant street, where streetlamps peer in through the windows. The location, like the scent of burnt coffee or the long hand on the wall clock that moves soundlessly, is inconsequential. What matters most is time, the time we have, the time that runs out. Some people have even gone so far as to say nothing in this world matters except time. It gives meaning to everything. Here, in our dreams, time is infinite, but when we leave this place, the dreams fade, and we start to fo...
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