Fictionlet
The man was on the shortish side, with dark hair, bushy eyebrows, and dusky complexion; he was also wearing a suit, which at a bookstore surprised Greg a little. “I know this book,” he said, picking up a copy of Retrograde Maneuvers from the unsigned stack. “You wrote this book?” Italian accent? French? Slavic? Greg couldn’t quite place it.
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “You read it?”
“This is a very dull book,” the man said.
“Oh,” said Greg. “Sorry…”
“Very dull,” the man repeated. “A sex scene went by and I didn’t even notice it, that’s how dull it was.”
“Um,” said Greg.
“You should write more exciting books. They would sell better.” The man casually tossed the copy of Retrograde Maneuvers back in the general direction of where he’d picked it up, and walked away without another word.
“Next time I’ll add some tigers, shall I?” Greg said to the empty space where the man had been.
-The Gneech
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