I feel like I’ve known Chris Truman my whole life. We’ve never met in person, but I’m sure he’d recognize me in a crowd.
We write each other often. The old-fashioned way, with pen and paper. He fancies himself a poet. Graduated near the top of his class (which gets a man nowhere in this world) from Pinehurst College, better known as PC. The Department of English thought he’d go far.
He knows all too well about the Sadness and suffers from a terrible case of the Nerves. By all accounts, though, he’s a nice guy.
I’m sketching an outline of the circumstances surrounding his life. Perhaps I’ll post an update soon. If it’s to his liking, Truman might share it on his blog. He appreciates the attention.