The Distant Joke

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2026-08-17 14:54:28 -

The Distant Joke

The taste of iron and burnt sugar lingers on your tongue, a phantom flavor that refuses to dissolve even as you swallow the dry, cold air of the corridor. You are standing in the departure hall of the Meridian Station, a place that exists only in the fold between one breath and the next, where the clocks tick backward and the luggage racks are made of solidified fog. You are not a traveler...

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