The Pale Meridian
You leave the gate open. The wind takes the iron clang and carries it away. You stand there for a moment, watching the dust settle on the cobbles. It is quiet now. The house breathes around you. It has always breathed. Stone does not stop. Stone waits. You know this. You have known it since you were a boy, pressing your ear against the cold wall, listening for the heartbeat of the earth. The...
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