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Victoria Robinson English Coursework: Creative Writing Run The bitter wind whistled and the snow lay on the ground as a few people crept silently to get out of the cold, a hat tumbled its way across the snow encrusted cobbles and it finally lay in the gutter, motionless. There was no bustle of the world passing by, a lack of reversing Lorries and thick cockney accents selling roasted chestnuts or frosty flowers to passers buy. A few warm glows of light appeared from shop windows, although hardly any had attempted to open on this frozen winter's day. Behind the counter of a small backstreet bookshop sat a women deeply engrossed in a novel. As she leant forwards towards her book a few strands of hair fell gently over her face and crept in front of her torte shell rimmed glasses. As the light dimmed into darkness she was oblivious to the passing of...

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