Not counting store personnel, nine people attended. After the reading, only one member of the audience purchased my novel. A dull looking fellow in suspender overalls and dirty work boots; an outfit that a plumber or a painter might wear. He approached with the book open in one hand so that the covers flopped like wings. He rifled the pages. I felt a whiff of air.
God, I wish I could do what you do, he said. I’d love to write for a living.
I smiled and removed the cap from my pen.
If he only had to do what I had to do, I thought. That and only that for a week, a month, a year. Swapping my life for his, he’d want to trade right back, reverse the switch, keep his sorrowful existence.
He presented the book and held it steady as I scribbled my signature. He thanked me. He sounded quite sincere. I shook his hand.
As he walked away, I considered the back of him. I admired his uninhibited, unhurried gait. Given the opportunity, I’d cling to his common dullness better than he ever could.
Bob Thurber In the last few years Bob has accumulated over 200 publication credits and seen his work win a number of contests and awards, most recently, The 2006 Meridian Editor’s Prize from Meridian, the semiannual literary journal produced at the University of Virginia. Selections of Bob’s work have been short listed for Glimmer Train’s Very Short Fiction Award, The Southeast Review’s World’s Best Short-short Story Contest, and Writer’s Digest’s Short Short Fiction Award twice. His stories have appeared in thirteen anthologies. Bob’s website can be found at Bob Thurber.Net.