The Wistful Campus
The glass did not shatter with a sound like a scream, but with the quiet, decisive finality of a bone snapping under a heavy boot, a fracture that ran through the center of the world like a jagged lightning bolt frozen in time, as Margaret Holloway stood before the window of the attic room, her hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the history that had been...
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