The Wistful Campus
The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the wool of your coat and seeped into the joints of your knees, a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the fact that your left hand was no longer entirely yours. You stood in the doorway of the patrol station, the badge on your chest a cold iron weight against...
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