Back at the school I
spend my afternoon doing paperwork in the library with Sebastian.
He looks like hell.
His skin is gray.
His hair is oily.
He smells like an
ashtray, and his eyes are bloodshot.
He just sits there,
looking at his hands.
I ask him if he got
another letter.
He nods in response.
Without me asking he
reaches into his pocket, tossing the offending piece of paper onto the
table.
I pick it up, scanning
the sloppy handwriting.
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