Cowboy

 

 

 

Distant talking heads aimed their faces towards glossy camera lenses. They argued across the sixty inch plasma screen.

“The guy placed in charge of the Iraqi Finance Ministry? He drove an ice cream truck before the Feds hired him.”

“That's true, but- “

“Let me finish! The twenty-four year old charged to fix the Iraqi Stock Exchange? Zero experience with financial markets. Now ... what's the goal behind these calculated decisions?”

“I- “

The television winked off. Silence boosted the sound of laughter in the smooth, white, oval haven.

Light struck the eagle on the carpet; its fist clutched arrows.