The Wistful Campus
The bell did not ring. It tolled. A deep, bronze vibration that started in the floorboards and climbed my spine like cold water. I stood at the edge of the Great Hall, my leather satchel heavy against my hip, my father’s hand still tight around mine. We were leaving. We had always been leaving, it seemed, though the doors had never opened for us before. The air smelled of wet stone and old ink....
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