The Wistful Campus
Thorne. October 14, 08:00. The word is a blade. It cuts through the hum of the ventilation system in the breakroom, severing the noise of the coffee grinder and the low murmur of the junior staff. Colonel Halloway stands by the window, his back to the room, his silhouette rigid against the gray light of the river valley. He does not turn around. He speaks to the air, to the concrete, to the...
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