The fellow at the next table saw my display when he turned to leave. “Did you write all these?”
40ish. Pale. Thin. Darkly dressed. Maybe a Brit.
I said I had.
“I don’t remember the last novel I read,” he said.
“Only two of these are novels,” I said.
“Yes, I do,” he said. “A friend wrote it.”
I pitched, in 50 words or less, total, the four books that were not novels.
He made videos. He did not believe books had a future.
I believed they did.
Adele said, later, “Become his friend, and maybe he will buy a book of yours.
I considered the plusses and minuses.