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Weekly Contest #160
His outfit had him looking like an oval. A flat, dark egg jutting out from the side of a sand dune. All his companions had disappeared. They must have stuck closer to the trail, the map, maintained cell reception somehow or smelled their way back to the starting point. He wondered how it felt for them, right now, to be touching their lips to the steel edge of a flask, droplets of condensation perspiring off its sides, a cool and crisp necessity. His own sides were steaming, gasping for air. His skin was begging his robes for a greater s...
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