The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 10:56:02 -

The Pale Dance

The fog did not lift so much as it surrendered, a slow exhale of grey water that revealed the skeletal ribs of the old textile mill standing against the pale morning sky. I stood at the edge of the rusted walkway, my fingers white-knuckled around the iron railing, feeling the cold seep through the thin wool of my coat. We were supposed to be leaving. We were supposed to be free. But the silence...

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