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Washington Jones: A Short Story

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Washington Jones: A Short Story
It was half past 11 as Ms. Luella Bates Washington Jones was walking down the abandoned streets of St. Louis. As she was humming her favorite song, she heard a cracking noise from behind a dumpster. She froze mid-step, shrugged and continued on walking. This time she heard someone behind the dumpster moving and turned around. “Who be there,” Ms. Jones asked. She placed her hands on her hips and sass penetrated off of her words. Out of the shadows a frail man crept. His pants were torn and baggy, sagging in the back. His black face was wrinkled and dirty, and his white hair shone in the moonlight. “The name’s Lemon Brown.” He examined Ms. Jones, her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, and a floral dress hugged her large figure.

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