portantly。 ？Rusty Klein invited me。？
The woman didn？t seem that impressed。 ？What have you published lately？？ she asked
suspiciously。
Dan tucked his notebook under his arm and smoothed down his new set of sideburns。 One of the
goats had gotten loose and jumped off the runway。 Four security guards ran after it。 ？Actually； one
of my more recent poems is in this week？s issue ofThe New Yorker 。 It？s called ？Sluts。？？
？No way！？ the woman gushed in a loud whisper。 She pulled her lavender leather Better Than
Naked tote bag into her lap and retrieved her copy ofThe New Yorker 。 Flipping through it； she
turned to page forty…two。 ？You don？t understand。 I read this poem over the phone toall my
girlfriends。 I can？t believe you wrote it。？
Dan didn？t know what to say。 This was his first encounter with an actual fan and he felt
simultaneously embarrassed and thrilled。 ？I？m glad you liked it；？ he replied modestly。
？Liked it？？ the woman repeated。 ？It changed my life！ Would you mind signing this for me？？ she
asked； thrusting the magazine into his lap。
Dan shrugged and retrieved his pen。Daniel Humphrey ； he scribbled just beside his poem； but his
signature looked a little plain and impersonal so he added a squiggly little flourish underneath it。
He？d scribbled over a few lines of the Gabriel Garcia Rhodes story； which seemed kind of like
sacrilege； but who really cared； when he？d just signed his first autograph。 He was famous？a real；
genuine writer！
？Thank youso； so much；？ the woman said； taking the magazine back。 She pointed to his
notebook。 ？Now you go ahead and keep writing；？ she whispered reverently。 ？Forget I bothered
you。？
German fol