The ghost of J.G. Graves walked the corridors and sighed. He looked at his reflection through the window and thought, “If you can’t give a damn, give it to somebody who does. Give it to them for nothing if need be. Tell them to move the books somewhere else and turn the whole building into an art gallery that will be the envy of every city. But make them restore it… and look after it.” He smiled to himself. “Then I might be able to rest.”
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