The Pale Dance

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2026-08-20 02:26:04 -

The Pale Dance

The house was breathing. You could hear it, a low, rhythmic exhalation that moved through the floorboards and up through the soles of your shoes, settling into the marrow of your bones with the weight of wet wool. You sat in the center of the library, your hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had gone cold an hour ago, and you watched the dust motes dance in the single beam of gray afternoon...

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