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Weekly Contest #245
Oakvale was the type of town in the middle of nowhere with a church on every corner and a cracking main street filled with potholes. The type of town where everybody knew their neighbor and their neighbor knew everybody. And it was all I had known for the first eighteen years of my life. Up until after the incident. It started as a cold spring morning: the air hung crisp, and soft tendrils of mist wove through slumbering trees. The glass of the passenger seat window cooled the flush of my cheek. My fever was finally waning—for the past few...
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