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Weekly Contest #361
His half-shine badge pinning to his loose red polo shirt. His slightly, very slightly slanted haircut. His sandals that felt like the action of breathing. He rounded his car, an unimportant car, and walked up to St. Street Medical Clinic with a step that pattered and hopped but also dropped with surprising weight. However, He, and this all melded into really the same thing as he stepped through the steel doorframe that he scoffed at the sterility of. The moment he walked in, hands in his pockets, the reception desk just to the right was lit ...
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