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Weekly Contest #63
Grey could tell by the drop of temperature that migration was near. He was currently waddling through the Parc Bordelais, looking for any crumbs of bread. Insects had already vanished and the usually delicious grass of the parc had died off. It had rained in the morning, and the heavy clouds in the sky indicated another shower soon. The trees who had been green just a couple months ago had already shed their leaves. All the children had gone back to school, and the animosity of the summer had truly been replaced by a dead silence. The greyl...
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