The Pale Meridian

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 19:58:37 -

The Pale Meridian

The coffee was cold. It had been sitting on the desk for an hour, a dark, still pool in a white cup. I did not drink it. I watched the surface. A film had formed. It looked like skin. Thin. Pale. Dead. My name is Thomas Bradshaw. I am a correctional officer. Or I was. The paperwork is a blur. The ink is wet. The signature is mine. But the man who signed it is not the man sitting here. The man...

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