The Pale Circus
The sky did not fall; it dissolved. That is how I remember it, the way a bruise spreads beneath the skin, a slow, bruised violet turning to black across the horizon of the city I had fled from, the city that had eventually become the place I could not escape to. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, time having lost its rigid spine to the fever that had taken hold of me, a sickness that...
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