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Weekly Contest #324
“No wonder someone wants you dead.” The portly, middle-aged man lying at my feet snored into the muddy sand that cushioned his ruddy face when he finally collapsed and lost consciousness after drinking himself into oblivion. An empty bottle of wine rested next to his outstretched hand, and the urge to use it as a weapon was strong, but I resisted. It seemed far too easy a death for a man as evil as him. Lip curling at the stink of body odor and urine, I nudged the empty bottle with the toe of my boot. It rolled away into the heavy darkness t...
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