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Weekly Contest #317
The night was cold beyond belief. It was the kind of cold that makes your muscles burn and your mouth emit clouds. Icy crystals blasted any exposed skin like a whip. The young man on the street was alone. Not physically alone. The street was packed with holiday nightlife. Drunk tourists and street vendors all mingled together in a blur of sensory bustle despite the snow. He was alone in other ways. Hands in his pockets, he trudged along thinking only of the cold. He couldn’t seem to escape it. He’d packed on the layers. He was mummified from...
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