“Are you Ace Backwords?”
He’s a young guy, early 20s. “I read your book in the library. It practically saved my life.”
He’s standing over me talking away. Nice guy. And I’m flattered. Soft-spoken (thankfully). But I can barely hear him. And I can barely follow what he’s saying. And I’m in no shape for socializing. Plus I’m embarrassed. Whatever high opinion he had of me from reading my book is now probably slightly lowered. I tell him I really can’t talk right now. But he starts telling me a story about something that happened to him in People’s Park the other day. Then he asks if he can buy me anything. “I owe you one,” he says. “I’m fine,” I says. After a bit more awkward exchanges he leaves with a big smile on his face.
Brushes with greatness at McDonald’s.