"And then a formal fallacy is a non sequitur which means that the premise and the conclusion are somehow disconnected. So a false dichotomy could be considered a formal fallacy, right?"
There was no answer. Amber glanced up from her textbook to find Jasmine running a blue highlighter through her pale blond hair, leaving a colorful streak, probably unaware that her friend had spoken at all.
"What are you doing?" Amber asked, exasperated.
"It's for the party tonight. Doesn't it look cool?" Jasmine smiled and flipped her long locks for effect.
Amber rolled her eyes and closed the textbook. Jasmine had managed to focus on schoolwork for approximately ten minutes, but Amber never really expected to study when Jasmine called her down to the college coffee shop for it. She toyed with her coffee mug for a moment before lifting the warm liquid to her lips and taking a sip. Jasmine checked her reflection in a compact mirror, then snapped it shut and leaned in towards her friend. She snatched the eyeglasses from Amber's nose and put them on herself.
"So are you coming tonight?" she asked, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue.
Amber had to squint a little to see her friend clearly.
"I don't know. I guess."
"Good." Jasmine slid the thick frames down her nose, her attention caught by something behind Amber.
Amber grabbed her glasses back and turned. She should have known. It was a cute guy. But even as she tried to be flippant about her friend's hormones, she found her gaze lingering. He wasn't just cute. He was beautiful, with short dark hair, black eyes, and smooth, olive skin. A ripped military-style jacket complimented his linebacker build. But something seemed off about him. He didn't seem like he belonged there.
The man's eyes shot up, meeting Amber's before she could turn back to Jasmine.
"I'm inviting him to the party," Jasmine whispered, primping her temporarily-colored hair and standing.
Amber caught her arm.
"Don't, Jasmine. He seems...old. Too old to be here."
"It's called a non-traditional student, Amber, and they need love, too."
She grinned and walked over to the man. Amber watched the exchange. It was painful. The man was clearly not interested, and Jasmine was making an ass out of herself, flirting and bending over so he could see down her shirt. He didn't even look. But as Jasmine finally gave up and walked back towards the table, the strange man's eyes found Amber's once more. She couldn't decipher his expression. She turned her attention back to Jasmine.
"Ugh. Total bust," her friend said, plopping back down in her seat and crossing her arms. "I practically told him I'd bang him if he came tonight and nothing. Must be gay."
"He's creepy, anyway. Let's just go."
"Good plan! I need to pick out an outfit. Then I'll come by your dorm and help you pick yours."
They both gathered their things and stood. Amber took a moment to down the rest of her coffee, but before they made it any farther, the strange man stood to leave. He passed right by them. Amber felt a shiver run down her spine. The musky scent of man and a strange, earthy scent reached her nostrils. She tried to keep her gaze low; the last thing she wanted to do was look into those dark eyes again.
Instead, her eyes landed on his large left hand and an even more unsettling sight: a crude tattoo in the shape of an hourglass was carved into the man's palm. Something about that scared her more than anything so far. No sane person would do that to themselves. They began walking in the opposite direction.
Amber hoped she'd never see him again.
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