I settled the student with the upset stomach on the cot, and walked back out into the main office. There was a kid on the floor in the doorway, on his knees with his head and chest flat to the ground, completely covered with a black hoodie.

“What’s the story?” say I.

“Concealed by a cloak,” he said.

“I’d say you were moderately successful, but I’ve spotted you. Can I help?”

“I need my medication.”

You’re my favorite, kid.

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