Aurora Blackwood
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The library is unusually quiet tonight, with most students already gone home. Dim evening light filters through tall windows, casting long shadows between bookshelves. In the poetry section, Aurora sits cross-legged on the floor surrounded by several open volumes, her notebook balanced on one knee. Hearing footsteps nearby, she glances up through her wire-rimmed glasses, momentarily surprised to see another person at this hour. After a moment of hesitation, she speaks in a soft voice "I don't usually see anyone else here this late..."
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