The Faded Root
The silk tie, a shade of deep, arterial burgundy that had long since lost its luster to the relentless friction of office lanyards and cardigan cuffs, was the only thing keeping my spine from snapping as I stood before the Chancellor’s desk, a man who occupied a space that felt less like a room and more like a pressurized vessel of institutional memory and bureaucratic decay. I was holding the...
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