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Saturday, August 23, 2008
Twentysix
The freeway reflected oncoming headlights. It had been raining for almost two days straight now.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and blinked his eyes forcefully to clear away the blur. Eleven fifty-seven.
Her plane from Tel Aviv was almost an hour late. They hadn't spoken since they left the airport.
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The plan was to do one piece of short fiction every day for a year. That did not work, but we're trying anyway.
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