The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 11:14:17 -

The Pale Circus

The fog sits heavy in the valley, a thick, wet blanket that smells of wet wool and old rain. You are alone in the glass tower, the air conditioning humming a low, indifferent note against the silence. It is late. The city below is a smear of amber and grey light, indifferent to the fact that you are still here, still holding the ledger, still trying to make the numbers balance with the reality...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews