The Pale Meridian
The rain tapped against the glass. It was a steady, rhythmic sound. Like a clock. But the clock had stopped hours ago. Elias sat in the corner. The room was small. The walls were damp. The wallpaper peeled in long, brown strips. It looked like dead skin. He watched the water run down the pane. Outside, the street was dark. The gas lamps sputtered. They threw weak halos on the wet cobblestones....
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