The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-20 00:26:23 -

The Pale Meridian

The coal dust in the air of the Holloway textile mill did not merely settle; it colonized, a grey snow that fell inward from the windows and outward from the lungs, coating every surface of the house in a fine, gritty film that Margaret Holloway could taste on the back of her tongue before she had even finished her morning tea. It was a Tuesday in November, the kind of day where the light in...

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