Trevor’s life fits into the pocket of a giant at the top of a beanstalk that he only recently decided to climb. It’s the little coin pocket in the giant’s jeans, where the giant stores a dime just in case he has to make a telephone call back to 1972. Trevor’s life is a crumb in that pocket, and ever since he claimed it, he’s been savoring that crumb like it’s the entire cake. Is he waiting for the giant’s finger, recently dipped into a can of Duncan-Hines frosting, to claim the dime, so he can finally have a taste?