The Pale Circus
Act I The river smelled of the sea, a brine that coated the back of the throat and turned the air in the cabin into something thick and cold. I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, the wood creaking under my weight, and watched the snow settle on the roof like ash. It was the month of the thaw, or so the almanac claimed, but here in the Tohoku snow country, the cold had a monopoly on the...
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