in/real/life

“I want to see what you’re writing,” the director told me. I sighed. “Then I would feel self-conscious.” I thought of treading the fine line, business and personal, and rubbed the edge of one shoe against the other. “I guess if you really want to . . . you’re not in it, but if you want to . . . ”

“No, you’re right. This way you can feel unencumbered.” I sighed again, this time with relief.I’m not telling anyone I know in real life. Maybe John.

Actually, I’d really like to tell him. He said once he liked my writing, based on a not even well-composed email, and I smiled reflexively and entirely too widely.

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