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Weekly Contest #227
I didn’t think I would see it this year. As I sit perched in my freezing attic, cross legged on the uneven wood floor nested in blankets, I make my observations. I can’t sleep- and why should I? I am accustomed to the quiet, to the uncertain temperatures, to the sounds of whatever it is that lives in the charred ghost of the woods now. I have made myself like the scratchy, pilled cotton blankets stored up here. But it has been three years and I must sit in my makeshift observation tower ducked ...
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