The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-18 13:10:01 -

The Pale Meridian

You wake up with the taste of copper in your mouth. It is a thin layer. A film. It coats the tongue. It feels like old pennies. You sit up. The room is dark. The air is stale. You look at your hand. The left hand. The fingers are curled. The skin is tight. It looks wrong. It looks used. You remember the dream. The long hallway. The white walls. The sound of heels clicking. One by one. Slow....

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