The Pale Circus
The kettle screams. You do not look up. You are scrubbing the copper basin. The water is cold. It cuts your hands. You are a man. You are a soldier. You are broke. The rent is due. The landlord is waiting. He is a ghost. He is also real. He stands in the doorway. His eyes are wet. He smells of mildew and old coins. You wipe your hands. You dry them on your trousers. The fabric is thin. It...
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