The Wistful Campus
The duffel bag sat on the station platform, its canvas stiff with the cold of the early morning. Elias Thorne knelt, the metal of his service revolver cool against his palm as he checked the cylinder one final time. It was a heavy thing, a physical anchor to a duty that felt increasingly abstract, a weight that grounded him in the reality of the law. Above them, the train’s departure whistle...
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