The line moves slowly forwards as I think of what I’ll say. Should I say she inspires me? Should I say I love her work? Should I ask if her if she’d look at mine?
The air gets thicker as I crawl further into the store. My hands are sweaty and I almost drop my book. My nerves are tying my stomach into knots and making me dizzy.
The line suddenly shifts forward; someone must have gotten impatient. I nearly trip over the “Caution: Wet Floor” sign lying on the floor.
What was I thinking? Oh, yeah, what to say. Maybe I should tell her I’ve read every one of her books, or would that seem too ingratiating?
The line’s getting shorter; she’s only a few feet away. What will I say? I may never get another chance to talk to her. I’ve got to say something.
Suddenly I’m standing at the table, she’s only a couple feet away at the other side. She says hello and reaches across to take my book. My mouth moves, but no words come out. I numbly hand her my book and she signs it. She smiles and turns to the next person in line. “Coward!” I think, as I stumble out of the store.