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More Notes for a Novel

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He sat balanced with his feet on the seat of the chair and his ass on the top edge of the back.

An observer might have thought him in danger of falling over and doing some serious damage, except that his face conveyed no such concern, simply a slight irritation at the inconvenience of having to sit like this.

Which was odd, since to all appearances there was no reason he had to sit like this. And he was 50 years old, so it was not some adolescent prank.

Ned (Linda's husband -- we've met him before, uttering disconnected snippets in his sleep) was just a month beyond that big milestone birthday. He was here in court without her, or a lawyer or any other visible support system, sitting on a chair in a conference room awaiting the woman who was suing him, a former high school teacher. One of his former high school teachers.

This was the first time Ned had perched on a chair like this since ... well ... high school.

Now he was sitting there and Mrs Washington (with her lawyer, presumably paid for by the school board in this odd matter) were making him wait.  They were supposed to be presenting him with a settlement agreement and proposed order.

They wouldn't come in and surprise him. Of that he was sure. His oddly perched back was to the window, so his face was looking intently at the door.

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