The Pale Meridian

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 16:41:15 -

The Pale Meridian

You are late. The bread is gone. I look at you. You look at the wall. The wall is stone. It is cold. It smells of damp. "Did you eat?" I ask. You do not answer. Your hands are in your pockets. They shake. I know that shake. I have seen it in men who have buried their sons. I have seen it in men who have shot their dogs. It is the shake of the body trying to hold in a scream that has no throat....

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