The Wistful Campus
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended veil of grey mist that turned the manicured lawns of the University of St. Jude’s into a blurred watercolor of slate and bruised purple. I stood by the window of my office, watching the droplets race down the glass, each one a tiny, frantic attempt to reach the ground before it evaporated into the dampness. My name is Thomas...
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