The Pale Circus

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2026-08-18 21:07:19 -

The Pale Circus

I woke with the taste of copper and old dust on my tongue, the memory of the dream so visceral that for a long, trembling moment I could not distinguish the ceiling of the motel room from the shattered glass of the atrium where I had seen the end. The walls of this transient shelter, stained with the humidity of the Pacific Northwest and the faint, sweet rot of decaying carpet, seemed to...

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