The Wistful Campus
The fog rolled in from the coast, thick and grey. It swallowed the spires of the university. It ate the windows. It erased the world beyond the gate. Mara stood in the center of the library. She was not a student. She was not a ghost. She was something else. A glitch in the machine. A stain on the lens. She had been here for a hundred years. Or perhaps a minute. Time was a fluid thing here. It...
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