The Wistful Campus

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2026-08-19 15:11:01 -

The bread was stale. I broke it with my thumbs. The crust crumbled. It tasted like dust. I ate it anyway. The room was small. Concrete walls. A single window. Bars on the glass. We were in a holding cell. Not a prison. A detention center. The air was cold. It smelled of bleach and sweat. There was only one other man. His name was Elias. He sat on the metal bench. He did not move. He watched the...

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