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Weekly Contest #68
It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. Red brick tiles covered the driveway, leading up to an ornately carved wooden door behind a wrought-iron gate. The tiles continued down the left side of the house all the way to the back. The grass on the right side of the house, however, grew freely. Shirelle could still see the dent in the earth where her bike had got caught once, throwing her from it. That day, when she came to, screaming and crying from the pain, all the adults that had stopped...
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