Conversation Airport
“Attention, please. Will passenger Mrs. A. L. Henson please report to the Information Desk?”
“I'm A. L. Henson.”
“Excuse me. I'm A. L. Henson.”
“We have the same initials? And last name?”
“It seems so. I'm Andrea Louise Henson.”
“What a coincidence! I'm Alice Lee Henson.”
“What's your husband's name?”
“Carl. Carl Joseph.”
“This is too much. I want to sit down.”
“Either it's an extremely rare coincidence or . . .”
“What does your husband do?”
“He's a salesman; travels a lot.”
“For long periods at a time – a month, six weeks?”
“Yes. He's gone now; I've been visiting family and I'm going home to Center City to an empty house.”
“I'm going home to Chicago to meet my husband.”
“That's where my Carl said he was going.”
“Do you know what he sells?”
“He's quite secretive, vague. He says he's involved with government contracts and can't talk about it.”
“That would explain what I've been dealing with. Describe your Carl.”
“Five foot ten, good-looking. Dark hair, receding. Blue eyes.”
“Does he have a paunch?”
“No. He's well built and lean.”
“A strawberry birthmark on his back, just above the waist?”
“I should hate you.”
“I feel the same about you, except that we have much in common, especially one very big
problem.”
“I think I'll see a lawyer when I get home.”
“Me too. But first we'd better see why the Information Desk is still paging us.”
“I'm Mrs. A. L. Henson. Sorry for the delay.”
“I am also Mrs. A. L. Henson. We're friends.”
"If either of you is married to Carl Joseph Henson, I have bad news. . . He is missing, and was last seen in the Chicago area."
Retired elementary school teacher Shirley Nelson reads and writes in Florence, Oregon. Her broad interests include traveling, walking, bowling, and music. She has published two poetry chapbooks, several small nonfiction books on historical subjects, and magazine articles.
