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Weekly Contest #348
What if endings weren’t slammed doors and silent streets—your reflection staring back at you from mirrored walls, echoing a loneliness you can’t quite name?What if they were open train doors on a rainy evening—offering shelter from the storm instead?She had spent three years in door-to-door sales. Four-time “Salesperson of the Month.” She had chosen it for its old-fashioned honesty—the simple exchange between people. And, of course, the money. The lack of qualifications required to begin didn’t hurt either.She tried to find purpose in its ho...
Weekly Contest #331
“Knock at my door, please.”The words trail on in my head repeatedly as I anxiously pace back and forth in an attempt to calm the surge of simmering energy within. I look up at the clock…11:59.“It’s late, he might not come,” I think to myself, trying to soothe myself.“Knock on my door.”The loop repeats and I grunt, forcing out the sound, hoping it’ll drown the nagging want that clings to life.“Don’t come!” I say, denying myself as I habitually do, cradling my head in my palms.Knock, knock, knock—called through the wooded barrier.My head snaps...
He lingered on the outskirts of a large collective meet and greet, a casual gathering meant to establish networks for literary support. It took place in a large elegant house in a posh neighbourhood, which only added to his anxiety about being there alone. He spoke briefly with attendees but he’d evaded their questions through artful manoeuvres, like claiming distraction from a friend “on his way” or excusing himself to the bathroom. He quickly conveyed his unwillingness to participate without explicitly saying so. He tapped his wine glass i...
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