OneWord, sixty seconds, all writing. Prompt: scarf
It was red. Red and long, made of wool. His grandmother had knit it two winters ago for him. But now that he was in Connecticut, the winters were colder and harsher than Ohio's. He loved that scarf, even if it was washed and dirtied and fraying. It was perfect. It was home.
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talkativebee's journal
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