The Pale Meridian

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 08:54:31 -

The Pale Meridian

The train smelled of wet wool and rust. I pressed my face to the glass, watching the countryside blur into a gray smear, my breath fogging the pane. My father sat opposite, his hands wrapped around a cold cup of tea, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the window. He did not look at me. He had not looked at me since we left the city three days ago. We were traveling to the Pale Meridian,...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews