I typed quickly against my keyboard, drinking the poor excuse for coffee I had bought with my spare change. I grimaced at the taste, swirling the brown liquid. I was struggling to make ends meet at that moment, and the low-end coffee shop I was on was barely affordable.

You approached, clearly giddy at seeing me, "Are you Carver Edlund?"

I paused. Another fan, of course, I could never escape them.

"How can I help you?" I smiled.