I didn’t even realize she’d been watching me. Maybe that’s why I jumped when I heard:

—You okay?

—Yeah, I said. —Thanks, I’m fine.

—You sure? You’re crying.

I couldn’t help laughing.

—Yeah, it’s just… I write, and sometimes I make myself cry.

Now she was the one cracking up.

—You write to suffer?

—Great question. I’ve asked myself that a few times.

—And?

—Nope. Figured that much out.

—So, why?

—I write to live.

She looked at me.

—But suffering’s unavoidable. It’s part of life, she shot back.

—True, but so is laughing.

—And do you make yourself laugh, too?

—All the time. Turns out I’m a pretty funny guy.

More laughs.

—Sounds like a pretty nice life.

—Can’t complain. But it has its risks.

—Serious ones?

—Very.

—Like what?

—Well, the other day, for example…

—What happened?

—I almost lost my phone.

Worried, she asked:

—You got mugged?

—No, I almost left it on the train because I was busy writing.

More laughs.

—Doesn’t sound that dangerous.

—That one was low-risk.

—So there are high-risk ones?

—Believe it or not, yeah.

She eyed me suspiciously for a few seconds.

—Be serious.

—I promise.

—What kind of risks?

—For starters, running on empty.

—I don’t get it.

—Every time you write, you leave a piece of yourself in the story.

—Every time?

—For me, at least.

—But that’s a good thing. You’re sending a piece of yourself out into the world.

—Sure, but the world doesn’t always send things back in the same shape.

—Does that bother you?

—It shouldn’t. I know.

—But?

—Has this ever happened to you: you give someone a gift, you put real thought into it, and they don’t like it because it’s not what they wanted?

—Yeah.

—Well, that’s it. People expect me to write something that backs up what they already believe, and when it doesn’t… well, you know.

—They hate you?

—Sometimes.

—And that gets to you?

—Depends on who it is.

—Got it.

—Thanks for getting it.

—So why do you keep doing it?

—Because it’s who I am. Because there are things that, if I don’t say them, I’ll explode. And that wouldn’t be pretty.

She smiled.

—No, I don’t think it would.

—Can you imagine the headlines? “Writer Explodes… Developing Story.”

She laughed a little more.

—Well, I hope I gave you something good back, at least.

—Totally. Thanks. You gave me a good story to write.