The Wistful Campus
The champagne was flat, but the applause was loud. I stood in the center of the Grand Hall at St. Jude’s University, my face a mask of polite gratitude while my stomach churned with the taste of old wine and false praise. Dean Halloway was toasting my tenure, his voice booming off the vaulted ceiling, a sound that usually made me feel like a guest in my own life. He called me a pillar of the...
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