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Weekly Contest #342
Andrew preferred milk. Steamed, with a touch of foam. Emma liked hers black. And both were best enjoyed in the near corner booth of the Magic Bean on a Friday afternoon. The first one there ordered the drinks. That’s how it was the first time they went, and that’s how it was every time since. Most of the time it was him due to a rather unlucky lab he had scheduled first thing in the morning. But he didn’t mind, if these coffee dates were the tradeoff. Perhaps because Andrew had his head in the clouds on the sunny walk over, or maybe it was t...
Weekly Contest #339
It had been exactly one year since James had last stepped foot in Stella’s Bakery. Ever since the first time he and Ellie had visited, it had been her favorite. Unsurprisingly, it had been a rather memorable occasion. Though, their definitions of memorable differed rather drastically. Despite the fact that it was nowhere near their neighborhood, James made the trip anyway, finding the stone and glass facade nestled in a thin strip between a now abandoned department store and a boutique art shop. With a smirk, James stepped through the doorw...
Weekly Contest #296
Marcus Kane took a sip of his tea as he scanned the market. So far, so good. If he had it his way, he would have preferred to have the meeting anywhere but central London. Too many eyes, both human and digital. Too many ways it could go wrong. “Target confirmed, Nyx is alone. Achilles, you’re clear to proceed.” The voice echoed through the nearly imperceptible earpiece. “Copy that, Hermes. Proceeding to Nyx.” Marcus rose from his seat and took one more sip before tossing the cup in a trash can. He walked casually, joining the flow of people ...
Weekly Contest #295
From the moment I stepped foot inside the Market of Marvels, I felt it was a place outside of time. A warehouse filled to the brim with rows upon rows of antique wooden mounds and stalls packed full of patinated metals, all forming the crude edges of a river which raged with patrons in all directions. To me, it was magic. “Here we are, Artie,” Rose extended an arm, palm up. “Impressive, huh?” The warm, musty air washed over us as we made our way towards a balcony overlooking the market. Sounds of creaking wood and haggling customers encompas...
Weekly Contest #293
The trunk of a 2003 Mazda Miata fits exactly three small cardboard boxes. One for clothes, one for books, and one for everything else. Or, for John Waltz on an overcast fall night, the entirety of one’s earthly possessions. It had been exactly 12 hours since he packed up his life and decided to drive west, only stopping for gas and tall Styrofoam cups of lukewarm gas station coffee. The faint glow of a rising sun begins to cascade across the morning sky as The Beatles’ Hey Jude whispers gently across the cabin. John yawns and takes a d...
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