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Weekly Contest #168
No matter how many times I asked where we were going, my mom didn’t answer. I watched her face as she turned the steering wheel of our old gray Plymouth sedan down each street and around each curve, and I noticed that each time tears started to pool in her eyes, she batted them away. Her lips trembled but she held her chin high. Even though I knew she was upset, there was a look of determination in her face. Every minute or so, she looked in the rear view mirror. She patted my leg, smiled at me, and I stopped fidge...
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