The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 20:57:06 -

The Pale Dance

The bread was dry. I tore it. The crust crumbled. It fell to the floor. I did not clean it up. I stood in the kitchen. It was small. The walls were white. They were peeling. My hands were shaking. I looked at them. They were old. They were red. The knuckles were swollen. I was a police officer. I knew this. I knew my rank. I knew my duties. I did not know why I was there. I had been there for...

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