The Wistful Campus
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, grey curtain that turned the old stone of the university into a weeping face. I sat in my study, the air thick with the smell of damp wool and the faint, sweet decay of books left too long in the damp. The room was small, a box of shadows and half-finished thoughts, but it was the only place where the silence felt like a companion rather...
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