The Pale Meridian
The ledger lay open on the floorboards, its spine cracked like a dry riverbed, and you stared at the ink-stained pages as if they were the skin of a dead animal. The eastern wall of the house had come down an hour ago, a catastrophic collapse of plaster and rotting timber that had turned your morning routine into a scramble for survival, and now the silence of the ruins was louder than the...
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