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Weekly Contest #240
The girl squinted at the dust devil coming toward her from the west. It was December 22nd and Bing Crosby was playing in the kitchen on Echo. Typical Phoenix Christmas. You dream about snow, and you get nothing but dirt. But she would much rather get a face full of dirt than stay inside and think about what had happened exactly four years ago. No, better to keep away, away from that carpet in the living room she'd stared at for what seemed like eternity, away from anything that reminded her; because if she thought about that then she'd thin...
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