Thomas pushed aside the midnight blue curtains. He liked the curtains because he could imagine he held a liquid sky between his fingers, rippling and soft as silk. The bottom edges were fading into a ragged grey from years of brushing against the concrete floor. Thomas pressed the fabric to his face. It smelled of dust, cinnamon, and caramel. He pulled one side of the silk curtains back with a golden cord. The moonlight streamed in and settled in great pools. It glittered off the gems set into the saddles of the carousel horses. Thomas stepped onto the creaking wooden base.
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