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Weekly Contest #268
It was at the end of some summer. With him, all my summers were the same, so I cannot tell the difference. Boomerang. Maybe everything in life follows this simple rule. I often find myself sitting in this room. The room is a haze of smoke and dim light, shadows dancing on the walls like ghosts of my past. The air is thick, suffocating, mirroring the weight in our chests. All participants of all the processes here are so different, but, simultaneously, we are so similar. We’re loaded with something we couldn’t handle well. So, we are levelin...
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