The Damp Hat A Short Story by Random Writer Chantal Jones looked at the damp hat in her hands and felt angry. She walked over to the window and reflected on her dirty surroundings. She had always loved grand Oxford with its panicky, pleasant parks. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel angry. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Clarke Meadows. Clarke was a brave coward with spiky legs and red eyelashes.
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