Page 97 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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I laugh and so does Jyoti.

It makes me happy to make her laugh.

She’s a sweet person,

if a little try-hard sometimes,

and a massive gossip.

She remembered that I wanna be an author,

but I’ve no idea what she wants to be. So, I ask her.

“Do you wanna be an author, too?”

“I’ve always thought I wanted to be

a journalist because I love stories.

Stories about people in particular,

and I like to know what’s going on.”

I can’t resist teasing her a bit.

“You mean you like to gossip?”

“You could call it that.” Jyoti smirks.

“I call it gossip,” I tell her,

“because that’s what it is.”

For a moment I worry I’m being too harsh,

but Jyoti laughs again.

“Anyway,” she continues,

“I was about to say I found it interesting

when The Author talked about

his relationship with his editor.

I like the idea of helping

someone to tell their story,

to make it clear and compelling.

It was fascinating to me

when he said sometimes reality

is less convincing than fiction.”

“Yes, I bet it was,” I say,

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