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Weekly Contest #24
The man was alert as a chamois, his body shifting constantly in the wicker chair as if living stirred anxiety in his bones. He was strangely thin for a fisherman, there was more life on discarded fish bones, and even stranger that he urged to fish in Corvin. Overflowing with technology and artificial life, the city was more than modernized. It seemed some people had the strength to hold the wheel steady. Did this twig have it in him, though? Morrison’s eyes vined up the man’s body, already knowing it was as futile as trying to change th...
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