Crimson and Clover

“What the . . .” I was thinking, looking at the huge yellow envelope in front of me. It was addressed to me in bold black Sharpie ink, yet there was no other name to show who had sent it. I was waiting for my brother to pick me up from my late-night sociology class at WVU-P, the local community college in Parkersburg, when I found it. He was about a half an hour late, so I decided to leave my tote bag full of books on one of the cafeteria tables while I went to the restroom. When I got back, there it was—that blindingly bright-yellow envelope that would have surely tempted Pandora to open.