The Damp Torch A Short Story by Anonymous Garth Fish looked at the damp torch in his hands and felt sneezy. He walked over to the window and reflected on his grand surroundings. He had always loved dirty Exeter with its courageous, crazy cliffs. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sneezy. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Laura Greenway. Laura was a witty patient with wobbly thighs and solid toes.
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