Someone else shows up. Actually, two other people.

“Are you Brandon Weiss?” One of them asks. He looks about thirty, and has the look of a man who thinks that working hard means not showering much. The other one has the look of someone who does everything that can be done to prepare for writing, so much so that he never gets any actual writing done.

I don’t look at them any more than just a cursory glance. Maybe they’ll just ask for autographs and then go away. I’d ...