Inside the cramped dorm room, the late afternoon shadows lengthened across the linoleum floor. The only light came from the small desk lamp beside Maya's organic chemistry textbooks. Tessa sat on the edge of the bed, carefully turning the pages of Maya's cloth-bound notebook. The diary was an extraordinary document of forensic clarity. Maya was a scientist; her notes were not emotional ramblings, but precise, dated observations recorded in neat,…
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