Warning Signs 1

Returning to my novel for a few days to explore a distinction between two emotions which are often considered synonymous.

“From one of my guests, at the Marks party this weekend.” Jimmy released his hold on the white envelope, let it fall into Dan’s curious hands. “Tall fella, can’t remember his name. Asked if’n were true I was helpig you with the fencing team, told him yeah. Excuses himself, comes back a little later with this, asked me to give it to you.”

Dan held the envelope high above his head, light from the high ceiling in the cafeteria filtering through the stiff, crumpled container, exposing the outline of a paper folded at uneven angles. “Any idea what it’s about?”

Jimmy drew his lips back, exposing his teeth. “Well — he did say it was about our sabrist.”

Dan’s eyes darted down, found Double-J, sparring with Annie at the center of the cafeteria floor, the grunts that came from behind his gray metal mask sounding like the exhaust of a car freshly tuned for optimum performance. He nodded, held the envelope up to Jimmy. “And you didn’t open it yourself?”

“Got your name on it.”

“But you’re not curious?”

“Didn’t say that.” Jimmy snorted. “But considering how the guy delivered it, figure it can’t be no good news. And if that’s the case, figure it’s best you read about it first.”

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