The Pale Bridge

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 03:36:48 -

The Pale Bridge

The champagne was warm, tasting of iron and stale sugar, and the band played a waltz that seemed to drag its feet through the mud of the floor. I stood by the pillar, my baton heavy in my hand, watching Silas Vane laugh with the mill owners. He was a man of soot and silk, his white tie stained with the grey dust of the furnace room. I wanted his throat. I wanted to feel the give of the muscle...

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