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Weekly Contest #139
George pushed open the door of the orphanage and stepped into the corridor, slightly off-balance. As the door swung closed behind him, it shut out the icy wind howling outside. He shifted the box he was carrying onto his left arm and rearranged his glasses. He thought to himself that this wind meant that a freezing weekend lay ahead of him, and he had better get some wood for the fireplace. He pushed the thought aside and surveyed the corridor he was in. It was polished to a high gloss and there was a table with some flowers arranged haphaza...
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