The Wistful Campus
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that clung to the shoulders of the uniformed men and seeped into the bones of the old university town, a place where the cobblestones were slick with the memory of centuries and the air smelled perpetually of wet stone, decaying leaves, and the faint, metallic tang of something unseen. Detective Elias Thorne stood alone on...
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