The Wistful Campus
The banquet hall of St. Jude’s Seminary smells of roasted lamb and old stone, a scent that has permeated the wool of your coat and the fibers of your soul since you first stepped across the threshold three years ago. You sit at the long oak table, the junior archivist, Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and desperate for the permanence that only tenure can provide, watching the Dean, a man whose...
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