The Wistful Dinner
The air in the lecture hall tasted of ozone and old dust, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat as he stood before the chalkboard. He was not merely a man in a room; he was the room. The walls of the university’s Department of Applied Linguistics, built in 1924 with heavy oak wainscoting and high, arched windows that looked out onto a rain-slicked campus, were his skin....
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