The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-20 03:05:25 -

The air in the corridor smelled of damp plaster and old paper, a scent that seemed to cling to the back of the throat rather than the nose. Margaret Holloway stood by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass in long, erratic lines that distorted the view of the grey yard below. She was a senior archivist, a title that carried a weight of silence and a responsibility for the...

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