The Wistful Campus
The first thing to go was the taste. It didn’t fade; it was ripped away, a sudden vacuum in the mouth that left Marcus reeling, as if someone had reached inside his skull and squeezed out the wet, metallic core of his being. He was sitting in the back of his father’s station wagon, the engine idling with a rhythmic, arrhythmic shudder that matched the tremor in his hands. Outside, the rain...
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