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Weekly Contest #180
The smell of rain, thick and sweet in her hair. Wrapping her frozen hands within his own, wanting to withdraw instinctively to preserve his own heat, but then forcing it back and holding her tighter. It had been three days since he had seen Sarah, and Ian was worried after the first few hours. He had met the police, dialed her parents, texted friends, called her phone only to reach her voicemail immediately. He sat in his darkened room, staring at his computer screen, eyes pulsing around several open tabs of her social media. Ian looked do...
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