The Wistful Campus
The maples along the quad had turned a bruised purple, their leaves clinging to the branches with the tenacious, desperate grip of the dying. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the faculty senate, his hand resting on the cold brass railing. He was a man built of right angles and old scars, a former military police officer who had traded the jungle for the lecture hall, trading M16s for...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare