The Wistful Campus
Nikola Markovic was twenty-four years old and owed the university library forty silver coins for a broken glass case, a debt that sat in my ledger like a stone in my shoe as I scrubbed the mold from the botanical manuscripts. The air in the archive was heavy with wet rot and old paper, a smell that clung to the back of my throat and made it difficult to breathe, let alone think clearly about...
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