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Weekly Contest #345
The daffodils had opened overnight.I noticed them while walking back home, the sun was unusually generous for early spring. They leaned toward the light, bright and unapologetically yellow against the neat grey pavement. The garden had looked bare all winter, a quiet patch of earth I sometimes forgot belonged to me.I stopped by the gate and watched them move in the breeze.My father used to water plants every morning before the sun grew harsh. Not daffodils. Mogra. Jasmine was climbing slowly along the small backyard garden of our house back ...
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