Ficlets

Notes of a Spy

The old man—whose name we learned is Jim, bends down and picks up a pad of paper that is lying in the mud.

He is not a tall man, nor is he particularly large, but there is something about his stature that seems overbearing, almost intimidating. His personality proves to be far from overbearing, however. I decide he is a sweet old man with a powerful presence that may frighten the weak minded. Which is not me. I stand up a little straighter. “What did you find?” I ask curiously. Todd is no longer frozen, but pacing back and forth frantically, muttering to himself.

Jim stands up and examines the paper, a frown on his face. “That is a troubled young lad,” he observes quietly. “Not only was he spying on you,” he turns to look me in the eye. “He was taking notes.”

“Notes…?” My voice is thin; feeble.

“What kind of notes?” Todd asks suddenly. “What did Tom write about me?”

Jim turns slowly to look at Todd. “He wasn’t writing about you.” He jerks his head in my direction. “He was writing about her.”

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