The Wistful Campus
The dream began not with a sight but with a sound, a low, resonant thrumming that seemed to vibrate through the marrow of the bone and settle into the dust of the library’s ancient carpets, a sound that Margot had spent the last three years trying to silence in her own head, a hum that was not quite a hum but a breath, a collective exhalation from the walls of the Sterling Institute, that place...
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