The Wistful Campus
"Tell me again why I should care about a ledger that doesn't balance," Dean Halloway said, his voice smooth as polished stone, cutting through the hum of the gala’s ambient jazz. Elias Vance, thirty-four and stiff in his ill-fitting tuxedo, felt the cold air of the basement vents biting at the nape of his neck despite the room’s stifling heat. He adjusted his grip on his champagne flute, the...
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