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Weekly Contest #97
I awake to the sound of glass shattering from my cafe downstairs. No louder than a plate slipping from someone's hands, crashing to the floor. Struggling to get out from my heavy blankets, I grab the small metal bat that my father gave me after telling him I was going to start my cafe. My grip around it trembles. I pause, maybe I had dreamt the sound? My hopes are cut off by light footprints treading downstairs. Then I had been so determined to set off on my own, situations like this were put on the back burner. My mind starts to spin f...
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