The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 05:36:12 -

The Pale Dance

The apple sat on the desk. It was red. Too red. It looked like a bruise. It looked like a wound. Arthur held it. His fingers were cold. The office was cold. The radiator clanked. It was a dry, metallic sound. Like bones snapping. "You look pale, Arthur." Margaret spoke from across the room. She did not look up. She typed. The keyboard clicked. Clack. Clack. Clack. A machine gun of small...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews