The Wistful Crossroads
The clink of silverware against porcelain was a sharp, rhythmic assault on the silence of the room, and Elias Thorne watched the reflection of his own face in the polished surface of his soup bowl, a face that looked less like a scholar and more like a man waiting for a verdict. "You’re staring at your soup, Elias," said Dr. Arthur Hale, the department chair, his voice carrying the dry, papery...
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