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Weekly Contest #206
I remember what I felt. What I felt when she looked at me. She was beautiful, no doubt. Her eyes, they were brown, and I remember because I always thought a girl that beautiful would have eyes the color of the sea, just like all the clichés. Eyes the shade of sapphire skies tinged with gleaming sunsets. But hers, they were brown. Not just any brown though. They were the color of brown that holds no sense of poetic being. They were the color of mud. And as I stared into those muddy eyes, I couldn’t help but think of that old saying, “there is...
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