The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-22 02:42:45 -

The Pale Meridian

The moth had been in my chest for forty years. It began as a small, dry fluttering, a tickle behind the sternum that I mistook for anxiety, a nervous habit of the immigrant who has left everything familiar behind to stand in the cold, gray air of a new country. I did not know then that it was not a feeling but a thing, a creature of silk and shadow that had nested in the architecture of my...

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