The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 04:18:15 -

The Pale Dance

The train hissed into the station of St. Jude’s, a small, rain-slicked city that clung to the hills like a barnacle. Margot pulled her coat tighter, the wool scratchy against her cheek, and stepped onto the platform. The air tasted of wet concrete and diesel. She was here to see him. Or rather, she was here to be seen by him. It was a distinction that had narrowed to a razor’s edge over the...

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