The Wistful Show
The smoke in the hall hung low, thick as wool, and you could taste the iron tang of the coal gas mixing with the sweat of a hundred bodies pressed against the velvet drapes. You stood near the stage, your hands shaking not from fear but from the sheer, animal hunger of the moment, your eyes locked on the woman who had promised to buy back your life with a single look. She was beautiful in a way...
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