The Pale Circus

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2026-08-19 04:46:21 -

The Pale Circus

The frost bit. It lived in the bone. Cold. Sharp. A white wire pulling at the marrow. I stood by the window. The glass was a thin wall. Outside, the world was grey. Dead trees. Bare branches. Like fingers clawing at the sky. My hands were still. They had to be still. I am a man of order. Of lines. Of rules. But today, the lines blurred. Today, the ice cracked. The building was a tomb. Concrete....

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