The Faded Paradox
You are standing in the doorway of the library, watching the rain streak the stained glass, and you know you are leaving. The air smells of wet wool and old paper, a scent that has become your second skin over the last three years at the University of St. Jude. You turn back to face Father Thomas, who sits in his high-backed chair by the dying fire, his hands folded over a leather-bound book...
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