The Pale Circus
You arrive at the gate of St. Jude’s Home for the Incurable with a cough that tastes of iron and old dust. The air is thin here, scrubbed clean by the high altitudes and the perpetual chill that settles in the bones of the stone walls. You are a clerk. A man of forms and ledgers. You have come to deliver the quarterly audit to Director Halloway, a task that should take no more than an hour. Yet...
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