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Weekly Contest #73
By the night of Christmas Eve, Miska had been proposed to five times. And as the clock struck twelve that night, Miska clutched her empty wine glass and watched Jack, whom she believed to be the love of her life, ease his battered blue ford truck down the street, until it was swallowed by the gently falling snow. She waited for a moment — held her breath, though for what, she could not say, and finally. finally, drew her blinds against the night. Then she turned to her empty house, which, in Jack’s absence, seemed to swell with silence,...
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