The Wistful Campus
The porcelain shard in Arthur Vane’s hand was cold, smooth, and fractured along a diagonal line that matched the scar on his left palm. It was a piece of a teacup, once white, now stained with the grease of the mill floor. He sat in the foreman’s office, a room that smelled of wet wool and coal dust, while Silas Thorne, the owner of the Vane Textile Company, reviewed the resignation letter...
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