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Weekly Contest #116
He sits on the ground at the top of the cliff above the whispering river waiting for the moon to show itself and the moment to arrive. When he sat here with her, the moon was full. Last night, two weeks since then, it was at a waning crescent and barely visible. He has told himself he will sit here every night of the moon cycle, of endless moon cycles, until he gets his wish. He looks into the fire he lights every evening and sees her face. Wild hair framing bright eyes and a wide smile. Her lips move as if she’s talking and he can see that...
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