The Wistful Campus
The tower stood. It had stood for three hundred years. It would stand after him. He knew this. It was a fact. Like the sun. Like death. He was old. His knees ached. The stone was cold. He climbed. One step. Two steps. The wind pushed him. He pushed back. He did not stop. He never stopped. His name was Arthur. He was the Keeper. The last Keeper. The others were gone. Dead. Or forgotten. He was...
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