The Wistful Campus
The crystal decanter sits on the mahogany table, catching the light from the chandeliers above like a frozen tear. You hold it in your hands, the weight of it familiar, the glass cool and smooth against your calloused palms. It is a beautiful object, cut with intricate geometric patterns that trap the wine inside in a swirling amber vortex. To the others in the room, it is a symbol of prestige,...
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