By 3:15 PM, Tessa had retreated to the second-floor study carrels of the humanities building—a quiet, drafty corner overlooking the rear courtyard where few students ventured during afternoon classes. She pulled Adrian's folded index card from the inner pocket of her denim jacket and unfolded it with trembling fingers. Written in Adrian's crisp, elegant cursive was a single address and a notation: *‘Maya Lin filed a confidential financial aid appeal…
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