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Weekly Contest #133
Mahan swept the broom along the dim and dusty attic, pushing the same clump of dust around that he had been for several minutes. The late evening sunlight poured in through the thick windows, painting the attic with dark and light tiger like stripes. Mahan turned his shoulder to the sunlight and pushed the clump of dust into the darkness. He then joined it there, brooding. After a while, his mother noticed what he was doing. “Hey,” she said, pausing in her own sweeping. “I see you there. You’ve been pushing that same dust ball ...
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