misfortune cookie

Evan trails little scraps of paper wherever he goes — notes, drawings, blueprints. Last night, cleaning the kitchen, I found one of them, folded into a neat square. I wasn't sure whether it was something I could throw away, so I unfolded it. Inside was an even smaller square, which said "To: XX, From: ??" in Evan's handwriting. Intrigued, as I'm sure Evan wanted me to be, I unfolded that square, and the note inside said, "You are doomed."