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Weekly Contest #55
“Can you keep a secret?” Joyce asked after carefully scanning the playground for unwanted listeners. “Sure,” Mae replied. Joyce looked down at her doll, her tiny fingers fiddling with its braids. Unlike her toy, pieces of hair had come lose and thus were no longer part of her mother’s neat work. Some even found the way into her face, like blades of grass sticking out from the sides of an untraveled path, but that did not bother her. “When I grow up, I…I want to create my own garden. I want to plant roses, daisies, daffodils and lavender,”...
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