The Wistful Campus
The morning air in the city of Oakhaven tasted of coal smoke and wet iron, a metallic tang that coated the back of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s throat as he stood on the bridge, watching the river churn below, where the water was the color of old bruises and the sky was a flat, unyielding sheet of grey that seemed to press down upon the brick facades of the industrial district with a heavy,...
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