The Wistful Campus

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 19:14:21 -

The train smelled of wet wool and rust. It was a heavy, metallic scent that clung to the back of my throat. I sat by the window, watching the gray fields of the Midwest blur into streaks of brown and white. The city was ahead. Chicago. I had come to find the source. Or perhaps to destroy it. I no longer knew the difference. My hands were shaking. I looked at them. They were thin, pale things....

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