The Pale Circus
Chapter One Could a man’s shoulder hold the weight of a life, or did it simply break under the strain? I woke with the question hanging in the air, my left arm throbbing with a dull, hot pulse that matched the rhythm of the coal offloading on the river. It was 1912, and the ice was out on the water, cracking loud against the hulls of the barges, a sound like bone snapping under a boot. I was...
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