The Faded Masquerade
The rain in Seattle does not fall so much as it hangs, a gray curtain that blurs the edges of the city into a watercolor smear of steel and glass, and you step out of your apartment building with the cracked porcelain mask of your sister, Julianne, tucked into the side pocket of your coat, its jagged edge digging into your hip with a rhythmic, painful insistence that mirrors the thumping of...
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