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Weekly Contest #78
I found the old box in my grandma's attic. I opened it and saw the books stacked on top of one another. I sat myself comfortably on the creaky old floor that most would go crazy about these days and grabbed one up gently. What was I looking for; nothing more than unknown nostalgia. I did the first thing I always do when I opened the book; I smelled the pages. I realize it sounds incredibly weird. I have often felt if books were people I would fit the profile of perverted maniac, having already sat in front of a jury trying to justify the rea...
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