““Why, Mr. Barth, how glad I am to see you,” she said. “Surprised, you mean,” Barth answered. His voice rumbled from the rolls of fat under his chin. “Delighted.” “How long has it been?” Barth asked. “Three years. How time flies.” The receptionist smiled, but Barth saw the awe and revulsion on her face as she glanced over his immense body. In her job she saw fat people every day. But Barth knew he was unusual. He was proud of being unusual. “Back to the fat farm,” he said, laughing. The effort o...f laughing made him short of breath, and he gasped for air as she pushed a button and said, “Mr. Barth is back.” He did not bother to look for a chair. No chair could hold him. He did lean against a wall, however. Standing was a labor he preferred to avoid. Yet it was not shortness of breath or exhaustion at the slightest effort that had brought him back to Anderson’s Fitness Center. He had often been fat before, and he rather relished the sensation of bulk, the impression he made as crowds parted for him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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