The Wistful Campus
"Thorne." The name hung in the air, sharp and cold, before it even reached his ears. Elias did not look up from the workbench. He was calibrating the pH of a solution that smelled distinctly of lavender and old copper, a scent that had become the only thing in this sterile, white-tiled kitchen that felt real. The kitchen was a laboratory now, the countertops stripped of family photos, of...
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