The Wistful Campus
The inventory list was a single sheet of manila paper, brittle at the edges, taped to the inside of the study door with a strip of masking tape that had yellowed with age. I peeled it off carefully, my thumb pressing the adhesive flat against the wood to avoid tearing the paper, and read the first line: *Personal Correspondence, 1954–1962. Box 1.* It was a simple job. Thirty-two years old, a...
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