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Weekly Contest #266
Tom sat nervously in front of the head officer’s workroom. He read the seedy letters on the door over and over again like a sacral mantra, Stewart Alma’s office, chief of police. This was his fifth time visiting the police this week as he feared for his life as well as the righteousness of our legal system. So he sat in the same dirty brown leather chair, letting his whole body covered in cold sweat slowly sink into the worn out dirty furniture. Above his head were yellow lights, with flies buzzing around , hitting the lightbulb in agony fro...
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