Jasper

Jasper huddles, his hands clasped behind his head.  There’s a french fry a few inches from his face that looks like it’s been sitting there too long.

“Just put your fucking wallets in the bag and no one gets hurt,” says the guy.  He’s standing on Jasper’s table now, so Jasper can’t see him.

He catches the eye of the girl huddled under the table across the aisle.  She has deep blue eyes and they’re wide with fear.  He smiles at her, and she almost maybe smiles back.

Some dude’s talking to them now, quiet, calm.  Jasper strains to hear.

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