At the Table of Want
Published by Foremost Press at Smashwords
Copyright 2009 Larry Kimport
Smashwoods Edition, License Notes
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For Sam and Libby.
Thanks for all the fun.
Young Truman shifted in his seat, rehearsing bullying and clubbing his way through the family occupying the seats before his own, should the need arise. They were too happy, carrying on carelessly between Truman’s seat and the starboard rear emergency door, which, of course, served little good at 35,000 feet.
A blue, three-ringed binder lay open on his lap. Truman bought it obediently at an airport gift shop in Seattle. “July 10, 1980” was entered upon the top left-hand side of the lined paper. Two spaces below, Truman had written: “I guess I’m having trouble with this thing—I feel talked into it—” in ink, in a cursive hand still groping in a hard-held, childish development. Truman was eighteen years old. Forgiving his handwriting, he was also handsome, excepting a scar that haunted the left side of his otherwise boyish good looks.