is this your card? — Blood+Honey
by Caroline HuckebaThe circus smells like popcorn oil and pennies. The air outside the tent hangs heavy with July, the kind of heat that melts your makeup before your act even starts. I paint on my smile anyway. Thick white grease, cherry red lips.From behind the curtain, I watch him—the magician. Always the magician, never his real name. His cape shines like oil under the lights, his hands slick with sleight. Cards flicker through the air, a fast red-and-black rain. One lands near my shoe, face...
