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Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about others, life, death, and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

At the end of all things…

They looked out the window, twenty-two stories down to the empty streets. Big Foot poured a double shot of whiskey in two glasses. He took one for himself and handed the other glass to his good friend and fellow conspirator, Snuffleupagus, who, even though he had to hold the drink with his trunk, still tossed...

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