The Pale Circus

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2026-08-19 11:27:10 -

The Pale Circus

The ink was still wet when the fire took the roof. I remember the smell first, a sharp, chemical tang that cut through the damp chill of the conservatory, followed by the hiss of timber meeting flame. From my vantage point on the second floor landing, I watched the smoke curl into the sky like a black ribbon, a symbol of our ending that had been written long before the match was struck. My...

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