A SANCTIFIED FIRE: CHAPTER 1
The morning bell had not yet rung, and the school compound breathed a strange calm. A light mist lingered over the grass, and the faint echo of students’ chatter drifted across the courtyard. Jim and I sat on a worn wooden bench near the classroom block, the air crisp with the scent of chalk dust and dew. Jim looked different that morning. His hair—soft, dark, and carelessly neat—caught the early light. His sharp jawline gave him a quiet charm that made people stare without meaning to, and his eyes, a deep hazel, held a dangerous softness that made even boys pause a moment too long. He had the kind of smile that could cut through you, though right now, his lips were pressed into a thin line, as though holding back a storm. I noticed the weight in his posture. His shoulders hunched forward, and his fingers tapped nervously against his knee. “What’s the matter, buddy? You look troubled,” I said, leaning closer, concern lacing my voice. Jim didn’t answer. He kept staring at ...