The Wistful Campus
The brass plaque on the podium was three inches too wide, a discrepancy Elias Thorne had noted with the precise, cold irritation of a man who had measured every square foot of the convocation hall’s limestone floor over the last decade. He stood in the back row, near the drafty double doors that led to the administration wing, counting the seconds between the Dean’s handshakes. It was forty-two...
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