The Pale Circus
The salt flats stretch out like a sheet of hammered tin, blinding and indifferent to the truck’s sputtering engine. Elias drives with his hands loose on the wheel, the vibration traveling up his arms and settling in his teeth, a familiar hum that has replaced the silence of his apartment for the last three days. He is thirty-four, though the hollows under his eyes suggest a man who has been...
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