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Weekly Contest #79
The paper felt like cloth in his big hands. He had folded and unfolded it hundreds of times until almost every word had creases. It never left his pocket and every few minutes he found his hand crept towards it to bask in its reassurance like a cat to sunny sill. He was not one for smiling unnecessarily and his face was unused to the manoeuvre yet today he found his cheeks making a frequent journey towards his eyes. He rested his stocky frame on the bench, the muscle from years of labouring was slowly but steadily melting into fat no...
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