"Cities don't forget."
The quiet conversations scattered throughout the lecture hall faded as Professor Eleanor Whitmore stepped to the front of the room.
"They remember everything."
She placed a faded black-and-white photograph beneath the document camera. The image flickered onto the screen behind her—a narrow Manhattan street lined with elegant brownstones, horse-drawn carriages, and pedestrians frozen in time.
"People often think history lives in museums," she continued. "But history is all around us. It's carved into stone façades, hidden beneath layers of paint, and buried under buildings that replaced the ones before them."
Reina uncapped her pen.
She enjoyed Professor Whitmore's lectures. Unlike many professors, she rarely relied on slides filled with dates or lengthy lists o
