The Wistful Campus
The rain fell like a curse. It did not ask permission. It soaked into the mud. It soaked into the bone. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood by the gate. His boots were heavy. The weight was good. The weight was familiar. He looked at the house. The walls were white. They looked dirty. The windows were dark. They looked like eyes. Elias was a soldier. He had worn the uniform for twenty years. The...
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