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Weekly Contest #89
The wind had picked up in September. It was usually abhorrent but this season was more unsettling than usual. The farmers in this dusty, remote town were struggling with the weather and the absence of moisture in the air made everything more difficult than even the most fervent veterans were ready to put up with. This was the crop season, and hops and barley were their end-all and be-all, their bread-and-butter. This was their life-blood; the thing that kept this town one step above the other cookie cutter, midwest towns that surrounded them...
She played the song on repeat until the lyrics meant nothing to her anymore. She laid in bed, eyes wide open, relishing in the sad, apropos lyrics that came streaming out of her pathetic computer speaker. I deserve this. Nothing more, nothing less. Just this, She stayed in this state for three days. Friends called. They knocked on the door. They honestly considered whether or not she was still within this plane of existence. Eventually she would have to move, but not now. Maybe tomorrow. The nice thing about feeling half dead is you ...
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