The Wistful Atlas
The fog did not roll into the valley so much as it settled, a heavy, grey quilt draped over the spires of the University of St. Jude’s, muffling the world in a silence that felt less like peace and more like a held breath. Inside the circular reading room, a space designed to be a fortress of intellect, the air was still and cold, carrying the scent of decaying paper and the metallic tang of...
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