The Wistful Voyage
Thorne, you’re late for the committee meeting, and if you don’t stop hovering over that desk like a ghost, you’re going to lose the room to the physics department." I looked up from the stack of undergraduate papers, the red ink of my grading pen staining the tip of my index finger, a dark smear against the pale skin that felt increasingly alien to me. It was October, the air in the office...
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