The Golden Downtown
The fire did not begin with a spark, nor did it arrive with the gentle, expectant warmth of a hearth, but rather it erupted from the very foundations of the Whitmore Hall in a scream of tearing metal and shattering glass that seemed to strip the soul from the building and hurl it into the indifferent, soot-blackened sky. It was a Tuesday, the air thick with the particulate dust of the...
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