I walk slowly past the table where my
once-upon-a-time friends are eating
their lunch. I give them plenty of
time to betray themselves with
giggles and knowing looks. I
watch to see if they huddle
together in that certain way
that friends do when they are
gathered around a secret.
If the author of that terrible note is
among them, they somehow manage
to keep from giving it away.
I am not convinced.