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Saturday, July 6, 2024

RÂNA CAMPBELL: May Flowers | 50-Word Stories

April’s showers were nothing compared to its deluge of awkward compliments on the wig. Fatima washed up on her doorstep, drained from the month’s third chemical assault, and adjusted the monstrosity. The tulips budding in the garden caught her eye, and a smile like the sun broke across her face.

Râna hates writing about herself but loves referring to herself in the third person.

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