The Distant Garden
The banquet hall of the University of St. Jude’s smelled of roasted duck, stale tobacco, and the distinct, metallic tang of institutional decay, a perfume that had been marinating in the velvet drapes for decades, and as I stood there holding a glass of wine that tasted like vinegar and regret, I watched the department head, Dr. Arthur Pym, cut his slice of meat with the methodical precision of...
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