Overheard at Table 2: Evidence of our Innate Savagery

He pulled a photo out of his jacket pocket.   I don't know why he carried the thing around, but it must have meant something to him.   Something important.   What history the picture carried for him I'll never know, but I do know I will never forget how he slapped it down on the table in front of me, nearly spilling my coffee as the picture smacked the woodgrain.

"As long as we can still do this to each other . . .," he said,

"we have absolutely NO pretense to call ourselves 'civilised'."



And I have to admit, staring at that photo, for long uncountable moments, I had to agree with the old man.