The Pale Circus

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2026-08-20 15:28:47 -

The Pale Circus

The glass was cold. It burned your fingers. You held the shard in your palm, a sliver of blue, jagged and bright. It was the only thing left. The rest of the window was gone, blown out into the night by the wind that never stopped howling in the valley. You looked at the hand that held it. The skin was paper-thin, mapped with veins like rivers on an old map. Your mother’s map. "Put it down,...

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