The Wistful Campus

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2026-08-18 01:09:35 -

The hall smelled of wet wool and stale beer. We were packed into the basement of the university’s main library, a concrete box buried under the city’s gray skin. Three hundred of us. Three hundred faces lit by the flicker of a single, dying chandelier. I stood near the back, holding a tray of cold sandwiches that no one wanted. My name was Arthur, though here I was just the boy who handled the...

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