The Wistful Campus
The phone rang. It was not a polite ring. It was a shriek. A jagged, electric scream that tore through the quiet of the study. I did not move. My hands were shaking. They were not my hands. They were pale. They were thin. They were the hands of a ghost. I let it ring. One ring. Two. Ten. The sound was a physical blow. It hammered against my ribs. My heart hammered back. We were dueling. I...
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