The Wistful Campus

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2026-08-20 15:18:01 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, and the house breathed with it. It was a deep, rattling exhalation, the kind that settles into the bones of old timber and keeps them damp. I remember the smell of the porridge most of all. It was thick, brown, and gritty, served in a bowl that had been chipped at the rim and mended with wire. It tasted of iron and ash. I ate it slowly, watching the...

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