The Wistful Campus
The porcelain bowl did not shatter with a bang, but with a sigh, a delicate exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of the entire university’s silence. It cracked down the center, a jagged scar running through the blue floral pattern, splitting the vessel into two weeping halves. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the Great Hall, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the sudden,...
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