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Weekly Contest #191
IV Boston has a flower shop, a good fifteen-minute walk from our house. The flowers remedied the constant aching in my chest. Effectively melting off the shell of misery I had harbored behind since the hot summer months and into the current awakening spring. “Can I get some lilacs, please!” A man bursts through the door of the shop. I see Diana recoil, startled by his booming voice and obnoxious disposition. He wears an expensive-looking business suit with a Bluetooth device clinging to his ear. He began leaning on the counter, putting t...
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