The Wistful Campus
The rain did not fall so much as it was poured from the sky, a grey, relentless curtain that blurred the edges of the world against the windows of St. Jude’s Institute for Behavioral Correction. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and industrial floor wax, a sterile olfactory landscape that smelled of containment. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the observation room, his...
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