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Weekly Contest #175
My husband was a deadbeat. Not by choice but a series of unfortunate events. He grew up an orphan and bounced around home to home and eventually the streets. He’d gotten severely injured working for a construction group as a teen, long before we had met. From the same site he developed multiple respiratory afflictions that followed him all his days. His rags were unsightly as he pumped my gas on a fall evening. So, I gave him an extra $20 for his services. He said, “miss, we will never meet again and it wouldn’t sit right with me if I...
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