The Golden Downtown
The banquet hall in the university’s old administration building smelled of roasted lamb, stale wine, and the sharp, metallic tang of impending dismissal, a scent that clung to the back of your throat like a curse you had not yet spoken aloud. You stood by the window, watching the November rain streak down the glass, blurring the lights of the campus below into long, weeping smears of amber and...
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