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Weekly Contest #335
I remembered the moment I killed him with utter clarity. This was how I knew the memory was real.Fabricated memories are often emotional and vague, deteriorating or changing with remarkable efficiency, soothing contradictions and forgiving the teller their inconsistencies until what remains is utterly amorphous. This memory had never altered. It was exact, fixed in place; a pinned specimen. It was early evening and the sky, starless and indifferent, peeked between the branches of the pine trees, which interlaced so completely as to form a gr...
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