The Pale Dance

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2026-08-19 16:02:42 -

The Pale Dance

Marek woke from a dream of falling snow. The snow was not cold. It was heavy. It pressed against his eyelids with the weight of years. He lay still in the dark room. The air smelled of dust and old wool. A single beam of moonlight cut across the floor. It illuminated a chair. In the chair sat a figure. The figure wore a grey coat. The coat was tailored. The fabric was fine. It absorbed the...

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