The Pale Meridian
Elias, the door is stuck, stop banging on it. The voice came from the kitchen, muffled by the thickness of the plaster and the years of dust that had settled into the cracks of the hallway. It was not a scold, exactly, but a command issued by habit, by the ghost of a wife who had been dead for six years and a brother who had been dead for three. Elias did not answer. He could not, not yet,...
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