<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Zoe Cordelier on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>https://plaza.housetoral.uk/authors/zoe-cordelier/</link><description>Recent content in Zoe Cordelier on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 18 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://plaza.housetoral.uk/authors/zoe-cordelier/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>How Ethan Met Claire</title><link>https://plaza.housetoral.uk/stories/2026/07/18/how-ethan-met-claire/</link><pubDate>Sat, 18 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://plaza.housetoral.uk/stories/2026/07/18/how-ethan-met-claire/</guid><description>&lt;h4 id="campus-canteen">Campus Canteen&lt;/h4>
&lt;p>It was one of those strange, drifting days at the university, after the exams but before the great escape. The campus was a sprawl of seventies brutalism, concrete and glass baking under the sun, every surface catching the heat and radiating it back. Inside, the canteen buzzed with a slow, restless energy, students in flip-flops and tank tops moving in loose patterns, chasing the last cold drinks or a decent sandwich.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>