The Wistful Campus
The orchid on the windowsill of the high school science room has split its stem down the center, a jagged white fracture that exposes the pithy, wet interior to the cold November air, and you stand before it in your tattered wool coat, the hem soaked through with the slush that collects in the gutters of the old brick campus, watching the fluid ooze out like a slow, silent tear that will not be...
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