The Wistful Skyline
The rain against the windowpane is a rhythmic, persistent tapping that you have learned to ignore, though tonight it sounds less like weather and more like the ticking of a clock you cannot stop. You are Elias, fifty-two years old, a tenured professor of medieval history at a university that prides itself on its prestige and its indifference to the personal failings of its faculty. You want the...
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