The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 22:16:27 -

The Pale Exile

You arrive with wet shoes. The city is a gray throat. It swallows you whole. You are not here. You are somewhere else. Somewhere with snow. Somewhere with your father. He is gone. But the cold remains. It lives in your marrow. It waits for you to forget. You do not forget. You walk the streets. The rain slicks the pavement. It mirrors the sky. The sky is a bruised plum. You look down. You see...

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