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Weekly Contest #79
My mother was the most beautiful woman in our neighborhood. Her doe eyes, the hair that always fell perfectly into place, the way she laughed louder than anyone else in the room. She had made a personality out of being gorgeous, naive, and clueless. She married my father when she just turned 18 — two months before I was born — and she would give him everything only for him to become a little too fond of every blonde he encountered. And when she realized that she would never have that man to herself, she just pulled him a little closer. As lo...
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