+TYPED OUT-

SOMEWHERE DIFFERENT

"Mr. Mosley, your books keep getting bigger and better."

"According to the NYT, yes. I wish they didn't."

"Why is that?" The interviewer asked.

"Well, my book's performances represent a state of mind and a need. Two-thirds of my publishing revolves around self-help and self-improvement. Though I see myself as fortunate, I acknowledge that perhaps the period of self-introspection isn't just an after-COVID boomerang effect but a global and lasting momentum."

"Would you like people to stop reading your books?"

Kenneth squeezed his armrest. "No, I'd like people to be happy enough with their current life to use my books as paper planes."

Those who listened laughed. Kenneth was at his prime, but Brad and Mathilda saw the difference.

They saw Kennth's sunken cheeks and a good beer stomach to play tambourine on. The fanatics saw smoke. All everyone spoke about at the Berlin Book Fest was his almost shoulder-length wavy hair and prominent beard that made him look like a red-haired Viking.

"He's sexier than ever," visitors said.

"It's rare to see an attractive author."

Yes, the fanatics only saw their hearts' desire.

It was Kenneth's first public interview in six months. People were ecstatic.

Kenneth put on his clown's face and hoped the interviewer wouldn't ask him if he was happy.

Kenneth answered the questions to the best of his abilities until he saw Dagmar giving him the assassin's glare before disappearing into the crowd.

Kenneth pursued his interview without giving the woman's expression a second thought until he returned to his booth for signings, and someone slapped a copy of Happy Alone on the table and asked. "So, are you happy, Mr. Mosley?"

The writer raised his head to find a furious Dagmar.

"Hi, DPG. What would you like me to sign?" Kenneth lowered his head to write.

"Don't DPG me; I asked you a question. Can you write me the answer? Are you happy after dumping my pregnant friend?"

Kenneth looked up and around him.

Time stood still just to let Kenneth see the inquisitive stares upon him.

He lowered his head and wrote, can we talk somewhere else? On the book's inside cover.

Five minutes later, they stood on the rooftop.

"Okay, Dagmar, I'm listening."

"Good, open your ears well. I know you're busy, but you have a baby on the way. I don't know your circumstances, but I remember a desperate guy who went out of his way to convince someone to give him a chance. I also recall the low-life telling my friend to remind him of his promise when he acted like a dick. I'm doing it in her stead since she isn't here. You're acting like the King of Jerks right now.

Monday was right for the beginning. You're a fraud. You can fool all those bookworms at the fest, but I see through you. You're not at your best. You won't make me believe you're happy alone. You'reㅡ."

Dagmar's phone rang.

She looked at Kenneth and answered, "Hi, Dayé."

Talk about critical timing, thought Kenneth.

"No, you're not bothering me. You don't know which color to choose in the baby's bedroom. Well, that's a dilemma."

Suddenly, Monday's voice resonated on the loudspeaker.