The Wistful Campus
The orchid in the atrium of the Department of Historical Archives does not bloom, nor does it wither; it simply persists, a pale, ghostly sentinel amidst the dust motes dancing in the shafts of afternoon light that pierce the high, stained-glass windows. You have watched it for three years, or perhaps it is only three months, time having become a viscous, untrustworthy fluid in your office, a...
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