The Pale Bonsai
The salt marshes off the coast of Kallipolis lay silver and flat under the dusk, a vast, indifferent expanse that swallowed the horizon before the sun could fully die. The casino town hummed with the low, electric thrum of credit cards floating between gigs, a precarious economy of tips and evictions that kept the residents awake and the streets slick with spilled drinks. Sotiris Nikolaidis...
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