The Wistful Campus
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old university district into a shimmering, treacherous mirror, and you stand now at the threshold of the faculty lounge, holding a porcelain cup that has gone cold, the steam having long since evaporated into the damp, stale air that smells of old paper, wet wool, and the metallic tang of...
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