The Wistful Campus
The rain had not stopped for three days, and the water ran in dark, heavy sheets down the slate roof of the manor house, pooling in the courtyard until the stones beneath became slick and treacherous. Elias Thorne stood under the eaves of the conservatory, his hands wrapped around a shard of terracotta that had once been part of the family’s prized wisteria pot, the jagged edge biting into his...
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