The Wistful Campus
The bell above the door of the Bodleian's antique bookshop rang with a sound like a small death, and Julian Ashworth looked up from the manuscript he was examining to see a woman standing in the rain outside the window, her face pressed against the glass as though trying to read the titles through the condensation. He knew that look. He had worn it himself, years ago, before the war, before the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews