A Book, An Author, The Sadness

“This event is gonna be so great. I will be signing away books to people all day. They will ask me questions, wait in line just to let me know that they loved his book…”  She wondered if this were his first thoughts in the morning today.

Then she realised that  not everyone thinks wishfully as hard as she does.

They were people here- at the bookstore, today. But nobody bothered to give as much as a second glance to the author or his book.

The very way that the author is sitting makes her sad- his eyes and brows all scrunched together, he holds his hands in a ball and keeps them rigid on his lap, he is staring at those hands. She hates it. She hates to see his shoulders all rounded up, his head bowed down and the fact that he is using that desk as his defence. Trying to protect himself from  eyes, afraid of what he might find in there.

So what the marketing stint failed. She wants to shake him up. Tell him to get over it.

Then she realised the sad part was not that no one showed up. The sad part is that the author thinks he wrote a mediocre book.  He will have to sit here all day even if no one comes, and she thought if he doubts himself now, how much destruction will he let it cause to his passion and confidence by the end of the day?

She bought his book but not for his sake. She had to know something. She read it.  And she knew that another good book got tossed in the corner. She wondered if she is ready to be an author just yet…



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