The Pale Meridian
The notice was pinned above the wire room door, its ink faded by the thaw that rotted the roads outside. The Mirror of the Watch Mohammad Salehi woke with the taste of copper in his mouth, the dream of the shattered glass still clinging to his eyelids. He sat up in the narrow cot, the linoleum floor cold through the soles of his feet, and reached for the loose button on his uniform. It dangled...
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