The Pale Circus

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2026-08-19 13:20:54 -

The Pale Circus

I dreamed I was wearing my father’s coat. It was too big for me. The sleeves hung down past my hands, dragging on the floor. I pulled at the fabric. It felt cold. Not winter cold. Dead cold. The kind of cold that settles in the bones and stays. I was in the house. My house. But the rooms were wrong. The hall was longer. The floorboards creaked under my feet. They sounded like dry twigs...

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