The Wistful Campus
The rain in the valley did not wash things clean; it merely slicked the grime into the pavement, turning the university’s limestone façade into a dark, weeping mirror. Margot stood by the window of her office, the glass fogged with the breath of the heating system’s low hum. She watched a student, a boy with a soaked jacket, hurry past, his head down against the wind. She felt a sudden, sharp...
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