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Weekly Contest #318
The room was too hot. The dark stained wood of her dresser and side table were painful to look at, swollen. She hadn’t been out of bed yet, her pillows bore the scent of nighttime sweat. Rachel imagined the bed animalic and maternal, grounded in something familiar and vaguely disgusting. Not that any animal could love her correctly. When everything was already suffocating, (like right now) the cat laid on her feet. When all she wanted in the world was to be touched, the cat was shitting or hiding or destroying something valuable. It is wrong...
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