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Weekly Contest #356
There was a time when a person could smell a flower and come away tasting someone else’s sorrow at the back of the throat.But the flowers had no smell anymore, not officially. You could press your face to the glass and breathe until your lungs ached and receive nothing but cold and your own reflection. That was the rule. That was the city’s solution to what happened when feeling passed between strangers without permission.The first funerals had come quickly. Then the riots.After the woman in Albon Square bent over a yellow blossom and began ...
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