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Familiar Figure
“Jas, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Amy, my friend since the fourth year of high school, stood next to a boy a few inches taller than I was. There were strands of his black hair dangling near his face like the thin legs of a spider. He was wearing a forest green long sleeve polo and light brown trousers, ironed to perfection. His face looked familiar. “Frank, I’m in my third year.” He reached out his hand. “Amy and I met in philosophy.” I looked over at Amy. A small smile was etched onto her usually banal expression. “Jasper, second year. Have we met before?” I replied. He…