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Weekly Contest #35
Rush hour was over. Most passengers had stepped from the subway train, but their heat still clung to each carriage: abandoned benches warm to the touch and straphangers stretching for a lover’s hand.Maxim was fast asleep: body turned sideways, long legs entwined like an overgrown insect; deaf even to the bass throbbing through his headphones. Only the constant rubbing of a package, wrapped in yellow plastic and propped against his hip, made him stir. His eyes flickered open. “He said it’s yours.“ said the woman across the aisle.He pulle...
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