The Wistful Incense
I woke with the taste of dust and old paper in my mouth, a dry, papery sensation that clung to the back of my throat as if I had been chewing on the very foundation of the library where I had spent the last three decades of my life, and for a moment, before the light from the high, arched windows of the university administration building had fully penetrated the heavy velvet curtains, I was not...
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