Two Gentlemen on Thanksgiving

About This Novel

Pete sat on the third bench to the right of the east entrance next to the sidewalk across from the Federation Square fountain. For nine years, every Thanksgiving, he always sat here at exactly one o'clock. Every time he sat like this, there was always some Charles Dickens-like experience that made his waistcoat bulge over his heart, as did his back. Pete came to his annual rendezvous today out of habit rather than hunger. It seems that it takes such a long time for the poor to be tortured by hunger. Of course, this is only the point of view of the philanthropist.

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