The Wistful Campus
The ceramic bird on the shelf in the faculty lounge has a crack running through its left wing, a thin white scar that you have traced with your index finger so many times the glaze is worn smooth, and this is where your life as an investigator of the trivial and the profound collapses, not with a bang, but with the quiet, terrible silence of a man who has been waiting for an apology that will...
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