The elegant, white-haired woman at the checkout desk said,
"I think of you a lot, Mr. Swick."
"Thank you," I said. "I really appreciate it."
"Especially when I'm thinking about traveling."
"I'm not at the paper anymore," I told her, not sure if she knew that I'd been laid off. (She knew.) "But I'm still writing."
"Are you still traveling?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm going to Key West next week."
"I went to Key West for the first time in a long time," she said. "It was a BLAST."
"I'm doing a story on the Casa Marina hotel. It's mentioned in this book." And I pointed to the cover of The Contemplated Spouse: The Letters of Wallace Stevens to Elsie.
"I should get that," she said. "I love Wallace Stevens."
This was my downfall: My readers were readers.
Comment feed for this post