The Wistful Campus

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2026-08-19 04:33:47 -

The cellar smelled of wet earth and the metallic tang of old coins, a scent that had become the backdrop of my life since the night the lights went out. I was not a man who believed in ghosts, or at least I told myself I was not. I was a restorer of antiques, a craftsman who understood the value of things that had survived. My workshop occupied the ground floor of a converted Victorian...

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