The Distant Summer
The oak doors of the university chapel stand open to the night air, a gaping mouth exhaling the scent of damp stone and old velvet, and you are standing in the center of the nave, feeling the vibration of the strings in the floorboards beneath your feet as the strings of the cello from the ensemble above seem to hum against your own spine, a low, resonant thrum that has nothing to do with the...
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