Chapter 18 - The Child at the End of the Table
The Arthur Center began hosting an annual dinner each autumn.
No tuxedos required.
No seating charts.
No thirty-seat table.
Families sat wherever they wished.
The first year, Leo noticed a boy alone near the doorway.
Ten years old.
Power chair.
Angry expression.
His mother was speaking with a therapist.
Leo rolled over.
“This seat taken?”
The boy looked at him.
“You own this place?”
“No.”
“People say you do.”
“People say many inaccurate things.”
The boy shrugged.
Leo sat.
“What’s your name?”
“Micah.”
“I’m Leo.”
“I know.”
“That ruins my introduction.”
Micah almost smiled.
Leo noticed his untouched food.
“You hate mushrooms?”
“I hate everyone asking me if I need help.”
Leo nodded.
“Fair.”
“You do that?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Adults panic around wheels.”
Micah laughed.
Across the room, Clara watched.
She remembered another boy.
Another table.
Another silence.
Later, Leo asked Micah whether he wanted to see the robotics lab.
Micah said no.
Then followed him anyway.
History did not repeat.
May you like
Not exactly.
Sometimes someone noticed soon enough.
