The Pale Banner
Thorne, you are blocking the coffee machine. The voice cut through the low hum of the faculty lounge, sharp and administrative. Elias Thorne stepped back, his hand still hovering over the lever. He was forty-two, a tenured professor of medieval history, and then he felt less like a scholar and more like a piece of furniture in the wrong room. The lounge was bright, the afternoon light slicing...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews