The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-20 01:54:47 -

The Pale Meridian

The glass in my left hand had begun to sing, a high, thin note that vibrated against the knuckles and traveled up into the bones of my wrist, a sound that was not quite auditory but rather a pressure behind the eyes, a warning that the air itself was thinning, that the fabric of the evening was unraveling at the seams where the candlelight touched the polished mahogany of the table where I sat...

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