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Weekly Contest #348
On one tormented afternoon, when torrents of rain, gales of wind, and nimbostratus clouds surrounded Gretvaile, a mysterious figure made of dust and shadows approached the great doors of the Gretavaile Ronds Complex. The figure watched people pass, hardly considering the identities of each and of which it may mimic for the sake of the evening. It crouched patiently in the corner for nearly four hours, taking brief notice of a hoard of black birds heading left overhead before a dingy taxi came to the curb. Out stepped a young, fashionable man...
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