The Wistful Campus
The grand hall of the University of St. Jude’s did not smell of stone or old paper, as one might expect of a place where minds were sharpened to a keen edge, but rather of damp wool, stale wine, and the heavy, cloying sweetness of lilies arranged in vases so tall they seemed to pierce the low, vaulted ceiling, creating a forest of white petals that swayed with a life of their own despite the...
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