The Distant Temple
The rain lashed against the leaded glass of the faculty lounge, blurring the view of the quadrangle into a watercolor smear of gray and green, and I sat there with a cup of tea that had gone cold an hour ago, watching the condensation run down the side of the mug like slow tears, while in my pocket, the small, hard shell of a beetle, polished smooth by years of handling, grew warm against my...
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