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Weekly Contest #342
When I was younger, I was quick to idolize people. Reverence came easily to me. I loved my mother for her soft voice and her quiet, pleasant nature—the way she moved through rooms like a careful breeze, shoulders tense, disturbing nothing. I loved my father for his outspoken nature, for the certainty in his stride, for the way he could turn everything into gifts and give them in place of an apology. I imagined myself living through them, becoming them one day—lifting their identities like bright stickers and pressing them over my own soul, s...
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