The Pale Circus
The fog had not lifted from the harbor since we arrived, a thick, saline shroud that swallowed the masts of the fishing boats and blurred the horizon into a grey, indistinct smear, and as I stood on the deck, gripping the cold iron railing until my knuckles turned white, I watched the silhouette of the man who had been my brother for three years dissolve into the mist, his figure growing...
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