The Golden Quest
The letter was damp, the ink of the rejection blurring into a dark, wet smear that looked less like a refusal and more like a bruise. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the quad, the rain hammering the flagstones around his shoes, holding the paper in one hand while the other gripped the railing of the stone bridge. He was forty-two, tenured, and for the first time in twenty years, he felt the...
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