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Weekly Contest #77
It was around nine in the morning and I had taken up my usual post by the window, staring out at the little white flakes that fell gingerly from a bleak gray sky, frosting the grass in our backyard, covering everything around in a crisp layer of white. I exhaled slowly and let my breath obscure the glass in front of me. It was a very typical morning in the Fitzpatrick household. Mom was sitting roughly on the edge of her seat at the kitchen counter, smacking her lips as she sipped from a steaming cup of warm liquid. Dad sat across from her,...
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