the convention was amusing. all the different people that came up to you to praise your work and accomplishments and all the literature enthusiasts answering all kinds of questions.

one “literature enthusiast” caught your eye though, a young man right next to your stand. he seemed patient with the people asking overly detailed questions about his work.

once he noticed you, he came up to your stand and examined one of your works.

“you’re not an amateur, are you?”