《Once In a Memory》 Beginning at the End "Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. Those profound words come from the least expected source, Dr. Seuss," I looked up from the lectern, seeing the teary eyes of the few dozen people gathered in the church. I took a breath, "I chose that quote because if there was anything that summarized the relationship I had with Zach, that was it. Our time together was marked by moments of silliness and moments of deep profundity. Leave it to a writer to use a word like profundity in a eulogy." There were muffled laughs. I nodded and felt my eyes burn as tears began to fill them. I cleared my throat, "I came to New Hampshire to find rest and to find inspiration. I had come down from the high of publishing a bestseller, a deeply cynical look at the world around us and the impact of our terminally online lives on mental health and connection. I found Zach and in him I found everything I didn''t know I was missing. I, uh," my voice broke, my throat felt like it had a baseball in it, clogging my words with emotion, "Excuse me, I didn''t believe in love before I met Zach. I don''t really know what I believed in before I met him. It certainly wasn''t love though. I wasn''t even comfortable enough to say that I was in love with a man until the very end," As I said that out loud, my composure fell away. I covered my my mouth with my hand and choked back the sobs that came from my chest. I regretted nothing about my relationship with Zach, I only regretted that I couldn''t admit a part of who I was until it was too late. He deserved better than that. I took a moment, looking down at the pages in front of me, trying to avoid making eye contact with Zach''s family members. I felt a sense of shame. Zach deserved a better eulogy than this, he deserved to be remembered how he was. "We all know the infectious light that Zach brought to our lives, how his laughter seemed to spread through a room, how his smile could part the clouds. We all know of the tenderness and the sincerity in everything he said. He was always the shoulder to cry on even when he carried burdens heavier than any of us could bear. He was relentlessly optimistic. There was no problem that he didn''t believe could be solved. He loved with everything he had and he loved everyone. To know Zach was to know love." I looked up again and I locked eyes with Zach''s father. I saw the grief etched into his face but he still smiled softly at me, the edges of his mouth curved up beneath his tear streaked cheeks. He nodded encouragingly at me. "Uh, Zach helped me navigate through what I thought was the toughest process I would ever go through. Now I know it was never as hard as I made it out to be, but Zach never criticized me. He helped me come to terms with the fact that I loved him even though we''re both men. He helped me navigate the complicated feelings and the sometimes overwhelming guilt that came from them because I had grown up in churches that condemned me for them. My love for Zach never felt wrong, in fact, it was the first time that something felt right." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. I paused again, losing my place in the pages as the words swam through the tears clouding my vision. I looked down at the open casket in front of me where Zach lay peacefully, his eyes closed and his hands folded on his chest. If it weren''t for the casket encasing him, I would believe that he would wake up if I just gently shook him. He was dressed in his favorite suit, a cobalt blue blazer over a freshly pressed white shirt finished with a matching bowtie. His hair was carefully coifed and not a single strand was out of place. He looked exactly how he would have wanted to for his grand exit from this life. "It isn''t fair that we had to lose him so soon," I said as I pushed the papers aside, speaking from the heart and the depths of my own grief. "I struggle every day with the cruelty of having loved and lost this beautiful man so soon. Of watching his parents, who are wonderful people, have to bury their only son. Of knowing that there is a void that will never be filled whether its at the community theatre that Zach loved to perform in or at the coffee shop that served as his first job or at the school where he taught. That weight nearly suffocates me every day. I know it does the same for all of you." I took a deep breath and I looked directly at Zach, speaking to him. "Thank you for being such a remarkable person, for showing me how love really felt and making me believe in it again. You are my inspiration and I will keep your memory with me for the rest of my life. My only regret will be that I was not the man I should have been for you in our short time together. But thank you for making my life beautiful." I looked back at the others gathered in the pews, dabbing at their eyes with the tissues that were at every row. "All of us were a part of Zach''s journey and he was a part of ours, a big part. He reminded us how to be better people. The world would benefit from knowing his story and so I will commit it to words. Zach, the story does not end today, it merely begins. Thank you." There was applause as I stepped down from behind the podium. Zach''s father rose to his feet, clapping for me as tears poured from his eyes. His wife stood beside him and she gave me a knowing nod. I crossed in front of the casket and I squeezed Zach''s hand one last time. It was cold to the touch and I felt a deep pit in my stomach as the realization that I would never again feel the gentle warmness of the man I called my boyfriend set in. "Goodbye, my love," I whispered and I leaned down and kissed Zach''s forehead. The rest of the funeral went by as a blur. I couldn''t focus. When they closed the casket and carried Zach to the hearse, I felt my heart break as it had the day he had died. That same sinking feeling, that drop that felt as though some trapdoor had swung open beneath me. The realization of the finality of the situation. I felt it again as I watched his white marbled casket get lowered into the ground and covered with a tarp. By the time I got in my car to drive back to our once shared apartment, I was numb. I opened the door and I stared into the dark living room. Our cat, Milo, meowed to greet me and wound between my legs. I rubbed his head before sitting on the floor and burying my face in his side as I cried. In a moment of understanding, Milo stayed there and he purred softly as I cried. I wiped my face with my hand and kissed his small head before retreating to my office. I grabbed a pen and I opened the leather bound journal that Zach had bought me as an anniversary gift. I could almost feel his arms gently wrap around my neck like they did when he would lean over my shoulders as I wrote, pressing his chin on the top of my head. I heard his words as the pen''s point pressed against the white page, "So many stories inside that head of yours, let them out." And I began to write. Novel Concepts "He''s the bestselling author of what the New York Times is calling the cynical wake up call we''ve been begging for. Dehumanized: The Fate of Human Society takes us on an odyssey through the impacts of social media and its rewiring of our cultures, our lifestyles, and our brains. It''s intellectual and thoughtful yet sarcastically hilarious. He is the man of the moment, the latest darling of the bestseller''s list and most anti online, terminally online author of our generation, Alexander Preston!" Applause roared through the studio as I walked onto the stage, squinting in the bright lights boring down onto me. I waved out at the faceless blobs, remaining just out of focus as I sat in the blue armchair opposite the late night show host. In that moment, I was acutely aware of every feeling. The heat of the stage lights, the way the lapel mic scratched against my skin, and the bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck. I smiled and waved as the applause faded to silence. "Alexander, do you go by Alexander?" the host asked. "Alex is fine," I replied. "Great Alex, we are so glad to have you here, aren''t we folks?" there was another round of thunderous applause. I noticed the blinking red of the cue light tucked just above the stage. "I''m happy to be here," I replied though happy was the wrong word. Anxious, awestruck, afraid. An alliterative chain of possible other descriptions flowed through my brain. But happy was what the host wanted to hear, what the audience wanted to hear. And so that''s the emotion I went with. "Now Alex, you know I''ve got to ask this. Your book, Dehumanized, which is on sale at every major retailer," there were more cheers, "is what a lot of people call a very cynical and critical take on the role of social media in our lives and where that is leading. Yet, you are a very prolific poster on several social media sites, especially Twitter. Would you say that''s hypocritical?" It was a good question and one I had prepared for. I unfolded my hands which had been tightly clasped in my lap and leaned forward, making sure to appear, as my agent would put it, approachable and friendly. "I''m glad you brought that up. You know, you read my book and it can come across as ''man this guy really hates social media'' but that it''s a little more complex than that. Social media is a tool, it is what we make it and we are what it makes us. Everything is good in moderation and, honestly, if you look at my post history, I could do to moderate myself a little more," There was some scattered laughter. "But the point of my book is not to say that social media is evil, it''s to point out the levels at which it is harmful. To bring attention to the parts of it that are not used as the tool it''s intended to be but as a weapon that destroys rather than creates." "That''s very profound. Tell me, Alex, how did you start the process of writing this novel? Your background is in social sciences, isn''t it?" the host asked. I nodded, this was another question I was expecting. So far things were going well. "It is. I hold two degrees. One is from the University of Georgia, go dawgs," I said as an aside, eliciting a few cheers and claps from the audience, "And the other is from Arizona State. My bachelor''s from UGA is in sociology and the my master''s is in applied behavioral analysis from ASU. Obviously my degrees are focused on human behavior and the study thereof which led me to this novel. I was curious about the actual impact of social media, what that was doing to us at both a micro and macro scale. So I started to do the research and I met with dozens of clinical behaviorists and psychologists as well as others like anthropologists and even computer scientists to look at algorithms and their impact on engagement. And then we got Dehumanized." "That is fascinating, did you expect for your book to take off the way it did?" "No, I really didn''t. I fully expected it to flop and be popular in maybe a few scientific circles or none at all and just be a jumping off point for a dissertation when I decided to pursue my doctorate. But somehow it caught on fire and people started reading it and I got reviews from celebrities, including Neil DeGrasse Tyson, which was incredible. Definitely called my mom about that one. And now I''m touring the country doing book signings and late night interviews and early morning interviews, it''s amazing and so surreal." I said and there was a round of applause. The host beamed, "That''s incredible. Thank you for joining us here tonight, Alex. Ladies and gentlemen, you heard the man, get your copy of Dehumanized: The Fate of Human Societies wherever you buy books from, available in paperback, hard cover, and digital. Let''s get another round of applause for Mr. Alexander Preston!" There were rousing cheers and a peal of thunderous applause. The lights dimmed and the cameras were shut off. I stood up and shook hands with the host before being escorted back through the wings of the stage and down the hall where my agent, Samira, was waiting for me. "How''d I do?" I asked as a production assistant undid my lapel mic and pulled the cord and attached pack from under my shirt. Samira flashed me a thumbs up and a slight smile, she never showed much emotion. It was part of the reason I had hired her. She gave short answers, handled things with ruthless efficiency, and was brutally honest. "You weren''t too robotic," she said simply as we walked towards the exit. I nodded, it was high praise coming from her. "Thanks, what''s next on the agenda?" I asked. Samira looked at her phone screen, swiping up as she scrolled through her emails, "Uh, looks like you''ve got an early morning show appearance tomorrow, a book signing in the Manhattan Barnes and Noble and then we''re headed to Boston by 6pm tomorrow." She read through the list of events we had accepted. There were no doubt dozens more that she had declined on my behalf. Though I appreciated the excitement around my book, I couldn''t help but wish for a less hectic life. We''d been nonstop for the past two months and I was honestly exhausted. "Great," I replied. The doors at the end of the hall swung open and we stepped out through the back entrance to the car that was waiting for us. The driver opened the door and I slid into the backseat and Samira followed behind. The door slammed shut and the driver got back in the front seat, "How much am I paying for this?" I asked as we started to pull out into the street. Samira looked at me, "It was handled by the publicists," she replied shortly. "Coming out of my royalties?" "Unclear." The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. I sighed. I wasn''t necessarily hurting for money, but the bills were stacking up and the royalties weren''t as high as I would''ve hoped. The show circuits and book signings would have to come to an end soon unless I was able to leverage a prepaid contract from another publisher or something similar. "What if we stop after Boston?" I asked. Samira shot me a sidelong glance before directing her focus back to her phone screen, "That is up to you, but I think you''d be leaving opportunities for more publicity off the table if you do." "But what''s the return on investment? We''ve been doing this two months and I''m only slightly above water here. This is expensive," I retorted, "You''re expensive." Samira scoffed. "You''re making money, not losing it. That''s really all an author can ask for. But we can call this whenever you want and you can go back to Georgia." "Alright, let''s discuss again after Boston." The rest of the ride was quiet. We were dropped off at the hotel and Samira told me to meet her again at 7 in the morning. I agreed and then got on the elevator and went to my room. I collapsed on the freshly made bedding and stared up at the ceiling, thinking through the day. Did I really want to stop doing this? This was an incredible experience and it was one that few people ever got. So why wasn''t I as grateful for it as I knew I should be? My phone buzzed and I groaned as I pulled it from my pocket. I clicked the power button on the side and the screen flashed a text notification. I unlocked my phone and read it. Saw you on late night. Great job! It was from my mom. I smiled and sent her a brief reply, Thanks! New York is great, love you! She text back almost immediately, Jealous! Love you too. I smiled and checked the time before dropping my phone on the bed. It was late and I was exhausted. I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as I undressed. I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment, noticing the lines at the corners of my eyes. I wasn''t old, I knew that. But maybe I was too old for this moment in my life. I truly wasn''t sure. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run down my back, closing my eyes as it cascaded down my head and shoulders, running over my body. I took a deep breath, inhaling the steam and letting it fill my lungs. Hotel showers were almost worth all the traveling. The endless hot water was worth the cost of the room by itself. By the time I stepped out of the shower, my fingers had begun to prune up and the mirror was completely fogged over. I grabbed one of the scratchy white towels folded neatly and stored underneath the sink and unfolded it, drying my hair and rubbing it down my body before tying it around my waist and opening the door to the main room. The cold air hit my skin as the steam flowed out through the open door. I pulled out a pair of underwear and a t-shirt from my suitcase and put them on, tossing the towel to the corner of the room. I laid back down on the bed and fell into a deep sleep. I woke up to my alarm blaring from my phone and I pressed the screen to turn it off. I turned on the lamp beside the bed and groaned as I slowly sat up and checked the time. 6:15 I got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, turning on the light and grabbing my comb. I brushed my hair and turned on the sink faucet so I could shave. I grabbed my razor and a can of shaving cream from the toiletries bag that I brought with me every time I traveled. I squeezed the shaving cream into my palm and worked it into a lather before spreading it across the bottom half of my face. I wet the razor and then slowly shaved away the errant hairs sprouting across my cheeks, chin, upper lip and jawline. When I finished, I rinsed out the sink and shook the razor dry before tossing it back into the bag. I checked my phone again. 6:30 I knew Samira was probably already waiting for me in the lobby. I looked around the bathroom to make sure I had all my belongings, hastily brushed my teeth, and zipped up my bag before throwing it back into my suitcase. I put on a collared shirt and tie and a pair of dark blue slacks. I checked my appearance in the mirror before grabbing my suitcase and phone and making my way down to the lobby. As expected, Samira was already waiting when I arrived. She had two coffees in her hands, she handed one to me. "God bless you," I said, taking a sip of the scalding liquid. "The Uber will be here in above ten minutes, underestimated how quickly you''d get down here." Samira said. I laughed, "You don''t have much faith in me being punctual," I said. She rolled her eyes and looked over the rims of her glasses at me, "Because I know you," she replied sarcastically. "They want you in studio by 7:45, so we''re cutting it close but should be fine." "Yikes, are you sure? New York traffic and all." "I planned for that, this hotel is only about seven blocks from the studio. Almost walkable." "And that''s why you''re the best," I said, shooting her a finger gun with my free hand. She raised an eyebrow, "Don''t forget it." The Uber showed up a few minutes later and we made it to the studio with five minutes to spare. I was rushed over to production where they fussed with my hair and miked me before getting me out to the mainstage. Another situation like last night. The conversation went roughly the same. I was able to promote my book, make the host laugh, and establish my credentials. Overall, a successful interview but a different audience than the night before. The people who watched this show were more likely to spend their money on my book because they were retirees or stay at home moms, the main demographics of the show''s viewers. And like the night before, I was immediately shuttled out to a car. This time we were bound for the bookstore. "Alright, remember to be approachable and brief with what you say to these people. Sign the books, take some pictures but keep it short. Our flight leaves at 6 and it''s already going to be a mess to get to LaGuardia at that time but it couldn''t be helped." Samira said. I nodded, indicating that I understood. New York City truly was a busy city and it was exhausting. Atlanta didn''t even come close to the sheer magnitude of the hustle of Manhattan. Samira shepherded me into the Barnes and Noble on Fifth Avenue, its glass storefront revealing the space set up for me before we even entered. A line had already begun to form and someone in the line smiled and pointed at me as we approached the entrance. I waved back, forcing a smile. "Remember, keep it friendly, keep it short." Samira reminded me as we walked in. I smiled and waved again as the people waiting in line cheered and clapped, drawing the attention of several other bystanders who stared at me quizzically. "Mr. Preston! Over here," an employee called brightly, waving me over to the table covered in copies of my book. A banner with the picture provided to them of me was set up beside the table emblazoned with my name and underneath was "Author of the NYT Bestseller: Dehumanized." I took my seat and grabbed the sharpie on my right, uncapping it as the first person stepped to the table. She smiled and took a picture with me, I signed her book and she thanked me before leaving. And so it went on like that for about an hour and then there was him. "Hi," he said with a soft smile and I was immediately captivated. "Hi," I replied. He looked at me with his big doe brown eyes, that soft smile playing across his lips still as he handed me his copy of my book. I flipped open the front cover, positioning the pen over the blank white space just inside, "How should I make it this out?" I asked. "My name is Zach, with a ''ch''" he said. "Where are you from, Zach?" I asked as I signed his copy, To Zach, thank you for your support. It means the world. -Alexander Preston "Uh, New Hampshire actually," he laughed nervously, "Not much every happens there so I sometimes take the train down here from Manchester and stay with some friends from NYU for a weekend or so." he explained. "Very nice, so you went to NYU?" I asked. I could see Samira in my peripheral vision, mouthing at me to wrap up the conversation. I ignored her. "I did, I got a degree in performing arts. But then life happened and I moved back home to teach in Nashua." Zach explained. "I get how that is, I grew up in Georgia and moved back after getting a degree at Arizona State. Now I don''t know that I necessarily have a home. It''s been a solid two months of traveling." I wasn''t sure why I was telling this all to this complete stranger but he was so easy to talk to. "I''m sure that''s hard," Zach said, "If you ever need a change of pace, come visit." he said and he slid a piece of paper towards me. "It was nice to meet you, Alex." Zach said as he walked away. I took the slip of paper and unfolded it. Scrawled across the torn lined paper was a phone number. I shoved it in my pocket and returned to signing books. The feelings inside of me could only be described as "complicated." I thought about him the rest of the evening. Had Me At Hello I stood at the security checkpoint at LaGuardia airport and as I emptied my pockets, I saw the folded slip of paper with Zach''s phone number on it. My heart fluttered in my chest and I tucked it back into my side pocket and walked through the metal detector. I held my arms out to my side as the TSA agent waved the wand over my pockets and midriff before gesturing me through the checkpoint. I grabbed my belongings from the plastic bucket on the conveyor belt and reorganized them in my pockets. I grabbed the piece of paper in my pocket and unfolded it again, looking at the phone number. I unlocked my phone and entered it into the messenger app, typing out a text then deleting it. I typed it again and deleted it for a second time. I couldn''t think straight. I finally gave up and just saved the number to my phone as Zach (bookstore guy) and then clicked my phone off and put it back in my pocket. Maybe I would think of something to say by the time I got to Boston. I continued to think through texting Zach as I sat at the terminal, waiting for my flight to board. I didn''t understand why I was so nervous or why I was entertaining the idea of reaching out to him. Why did I care so much? Frustration welled up inside me and I wanted to scream. I unlocked my phone again and went to delete his number. There was no reason for me to be this stressed out over ten digits given to me by a complete stranger. Before I could press "Delete Contact," the intercom crackled, "Flight 1378 now boarding." I switched my phone to airplane mode and slid it into my pocket, leaving Zach''s number saved for now. I boarded the plane and sat down, staring straight ahead and continuing to run through the conflicting thoughts in my head. "Excuse me," a woman said and I looked at her, waiting for her to ask if I was that author. She raised an eyebrow and pointed at the seat next to me, "That''s my seat," she said flatly and I apologized before standing up and allowing her to slide into her seat. The shows and book signings made it easy to forget that very few people would ever recognize me. Which is why I was in economy class and not first class, I was an author not a Hemsworth brother. We were in the air within the next twenty minutes and I regretted not requesting a window seat. The flight wouldn''t be long enough to watch a movie and I couldn''t help but feel like a creep every time I tried to look out the window and inadvertently bothered the woman seated beside it. Eventually I gave up and stared straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of me, continuing to process my thoughts and the whiplash of seemingly never-ending travel. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now arriving at the Boston Logan International Airport. The weather is clear and sunny with a current temperature of 44 degrees. We hope you enjoyed your flight. Please remain seated until directed to depart by your flight attendants." The crackly announcement jolted me from my thoughts and I tried to look out the window again. The shade was pulled down and the woman shot me an annoyed look. I looked away, staring straight at the back of the seat in front of me again. It would''ve been worth it to pay the extra money for a first class ticket. I kept that in mind for the next flight booking. I turned off airplane mode and immediately notifications flooded my phone. "Meet me at your terminal when you land" read the most recent text from Samira. I opened my messages and "liked" the text to show her that I received it. I scrolled through the remainder of my notifications. Several news alerts, some texts from relatives and friends about how they had seen me on tv, some marketing texts from publishing companies. I cleared the alerts for all of them and then opened my contacts, scrolling to Zach''s number again. I pressed "Message" and the screen popped up with my keyboard, waiting for me to type out a text. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, please gather your belongings and begin making your way to the front of the plane. Thank you with flying with us today and enjoy Boston!" the flight attendant announced cheerily. I slid my phone back into my pocket, abandoning yet another attempt to contact Zach. I waited for the passengers in front of me to begin moving into the aisle and out of the plane before I stood and followed them, exiting the plane and entering the airport. I reached the terminal and saw Samira standing directly to the right of it, scanning the crowd to find me. Her eyes fell on me and she jerked her head to the side as an indicator to follow her. I followed closely behind, my carry on suitcase rolling behind me across the linoleum floors as I walked hastily to keep up with Samira, whose pace was more like a sprint than a walk. Sometimes I swore that she was purposely trying to lose me in some unfamiliar airport. We made it to the exit and she checked her phone, "Look for a blue Kia Sorento," she said, putting her hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun as she squinted out into the busy pickup lane. "I haven''t the slightest idea what that looks like," I replied. "SUV, blue, says Kia on the front," she responded sarcastically. "Got it." She found it before I did and pointed to the car, waving them down. The driver turned on his hazards and pulled close to the curb. Samira got into the front seat and I slid into the back with my suitcase. The driver wordlessly marked that he had picked us up on the app and then began driving to our destination. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "How was the flight?" Samira asked. I looked up from my phone, "Remind me to shell out the extra money for first class next time. Or request a window seat if you can," I replied. Samira laughed, "Noted," she said. "And how was your flight?" "Nothing out of the ordinary." She said simply. And then the conversation was over. Moments like these reminded me that she was my agent, not my friend. I went back to staring at the message screen on my phone with Zach''s contact name at the top, waiting for me to finally make a move. The absurdity of the situation was the most frustrating part. Why couldn''t I just send a quick ''hey'' or just decide not to message him at all? Why did I care so much about making a first impression on this man? I finally settled on "Hello" and pressed send. The message flew to the top of the screen in a small blue bubble. Small letters underneath read "Delivered." I clicked my phone back off and slid it into my pocket. "Remind me what we''re doing in Boston again?" I asked Samira. "Book signings and a meeting with a publisher." "And then after that''s all done?" "Then you can go home like you wanted," Samira replied, turning around to face me. I nodded. Was that what I wanted? My brain felt like static on a tv screen, fuzzy and with no clear direction. "Ok," I replied quietly. Samira stared at me a moment longer before turning back around. "Do you want me to book the return flight or are you going to handle that?" she asked, not looking up from her phone. "I got it." She didn''t reply and I took my phone back out to start searching for flights back to Georgia. As I scrolled through the options, my phone vibrated and a text notification appeared at the top of my screen. "Hey author boy," it read from "Zach (bookstore guy)." A smile slowly spread across my face and I clicked on the text, opening the message and leaving the flight booking page I had been browsing. And then that same stuck feeling returned. I thought about different ways to continue the conversation before settling on, "How''s it going?" The message seemed stupid just like this whole situation. Was I really that desperate for a friend? The car slowed to a stop and I looked up from my phone as the driver pulled up against the sidewalk in front of the hotel. I thanked the driver as I opened the door and grabbed my suitcase, sliding across the seat so I could exit straight onto the sidewalk. Samira got out of the car and rounded the front of it to get to the sidewalk as well. The driver pulled off and Samira immediately began walking towards the hotel. I followed behind her into the main lobby and my phone buzzed again. "Not bad, just having dinner. Hbu?" Zach had texted back. I started to text back but Samira called to me, "Preston!" I looked up and saw her a few feet ahead, standing at the front desk. I jogged over to her. "Reservations are under Alexander Preston," she said to the front desk associate and the young man looked for the reservation for a second before finding it and making our room keys. He gave us the checkout times and directed us to the elevators after telling us what floor our rooms were on. We got on the elevator and Samira remarked, "You seem distracted." "What do you mean?" I asked, playing dumb. I didn''t want to discuss the details of my sad social life with my agent of all people. "Just distracted. Fix that before we meet with the publishing company tomorrow, a new contract could depend on it." She said. We rode the rest of the way in silence. The doors opened to the sixth floor and Samira exited before me, walking down the hall to her room. I went the opposite direction towards mine and I scanned my keycard once I reached the door with my room number, pushing it open into yet another hotel room. I set my luggage to the side and sat down in the chair beside the window next to the bed. I took my phone back out and replied to Zach, "Just got to my hotel in Boston." My phone buzzed before I even had a chance to set it down, "Nice! I love Boston," Zach responded. "I''ve never been. Hardly left the South before this whole book thing," I text back. Zach reacted to the text with an exclamation mark and text back, "Welcome to the Northeast" complete with a smiley emoji. I smiled, "Thanks. Maybe New Hampshire will be next" "It should be! Swing by before you leave for home, you can take the Amtrak in!" I considered for a moment and pulled up the Amtrak page to see how long the train ride would be from Boston to New Hampshire. It was nearly 10 hours. Though it wasn''t like I had anywhere else to be. I''d have to see how the meeting tomorrow went and how I was feeling. "Maybe I will" I text back. "Awesome! Let me know and I could pick you up from the Durham station. I live in Loudon but I drive that way a lot to take the Amtrak." "That''s really nice of you." "I try to be nice. Most of the time." Zach text back with a winking emoji. I wasn''t sure how to respond so I left my phone on the bed while I showered. My stomach rumbled as I finished my shower and I looked at the time on the bedside clock as I walked out of the bathroom with a towel tied around my waist. It was nearly 9pm. I grabbed my phone again and opened my messages, "Any food places you suggest that are still open and deliver?" I texted Zach. I watched the three bubbles appear as he started typing a response. "Tasty Burger is open late and delivers through most apps," he replied. "Thanks!" I replied and I pulled up their menu. Within a few minutes, I had a burger and fries ordered and headed my way. "No problem! I''ve got to be up early for work tomorrow so I''m going to bed. It has been nice talking to you, Alex." "You too!" I text back. I clicked off my phone and tried to ignore the gnawing anticipation in my stomach. I couldn''t figure out why I wanted to keep texting with Zach. The last few months had served to remind me how lonely I really was. Even though I was surrounded by hundreds of people every day, I felt entirely alone. I wasn''t depressed, not quite, but I definitely wanted more than just a few exchanges with complete strangers. That explanation served to rationalize my feelings about Zach''s texts. My phone vibrated as it rang and I felt my heart accelerate. I grabbed the phone and answered it, "I''m in the lobby," the voice on the other end said. I held my phone out, confused, and then I noticed the number wasn''t one I had saved, it was my food. I felt a rush of embarrassment as the realization set in that I had hoped it was Zach calling me. I really needed to get out more. "Coming down," I said and then hung up. I slid my phone into my pocket and made my way to the lobby. Tomorrow I would need to be focused the book signings and the meeting with the publishing company, these feelings would have to be worked through another time. A therapist might be a worthwhile investment.