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Weekly Contest #334
Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of substance abuse, death, and child abuse. It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Each step I took along the rough, icy cobblestone felt as though I were walking on nails. The worn, oversized shoes I once wore had been stolen by a boy older than me. They weren’t mine anyways; they had belonged to my mother, though I did not remember her.I knew only that the things she once wore were sometimes given to me, and they hung heavy and long, as though still belong...
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