The Pale Path

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2026-08-21 10:25:21 -

The Pale Path

The ballroom smelled of stale champagne and damp wool. We danced until the floorboards groaned, a rhythmic protest against our weight. I held a glass of sherry in one hand, its warmth seeping into my palm, and watched my reflection ripple in the window. It was not my face I saw. It was the face of the man who had sold me. The man who had taught me how to lie with a straight spine. I am a...

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