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Weekly Contest #252
There was a dark splotch on one of the ceiling tiles in the basement. Claire supposed Mom hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared enough to fix it in her last few years. She adjusted the black dress she was wearing and tried to swallow down the feeling rising in her throat. Mom had always said that funerals were for the benefit of the living, not the dead, but Claire felt no benefit from milling around with strangers that pretended to love Mom when none of them ever helped her. Claire itched with the need to do something other than ruminate ho...
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