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Hello
My Lovely
She
was a big broad. As big as the whistling willows surrounding my top field and
as broad as the colour washed Autumn sky. The breeze from her voice bent the
grass and flapped my threadbare cloak. I looked her up and down and decided
that eating late season wheat stocks was a bad idea.
This was written for 55 Word Challenge at Jezri's Nightmares
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