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Picking at the pocket.

Tim covered his face with his hands from embarrassment, unconsciously becoming the proverbial ostrich burying his head in the sand. He was in school assembly, every grade was in attendance, and his younger brother Jeremy had been selected to read out one of his poems as a part of literature week.

Tim knew Jeremy was a ‘unique individual,’ their mother reminded him often enough, and on one level Tim had always admired his brothers ability to be himself at any cost, but there were times when social pressure got the best of him and he wished Jeremy would just try a little anonymity.

It was one thing for him to be reading his poetry in school but why, dear god why, did he have to do it dressed as a wizard wearing attached breathing apparatus. What the hell was a space wizard anyway? This thing was way too conceptual for a high school crowd and Tim had a sinking feeling there were more props involved that hadn’t even been seen yet.

Tim looked up from his masked face & saw Jerry Hull grinning at him. Oh crap!

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