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Weekly Contest #172
Dave moves the boxes from our shipment this morning in his usual burly silence. His brows are hard-set and he keeps his head down, blocking out everything else but the task at hand. I wonder, for the hundredth time, how someone like him could stand working at a florist, where everything is sweet-smelling and full of color. From the first moment we began working together about three years ago, I could see that everything about him was in stark contrast to our surroundings: always dressing in dark colors, always a stony expression, seldom both...
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