You’re on the train, reading a book. The train is crowded but you’re hooked on a really gory death scene so you don’t even care. You’re sitting next to a man named Brodie Harrison who was looking at your book a few times. He smiles slightly, asking a question. “Good book?” He asks, you nod. He laughs a little bit. “Thank you.” You furrow your brows and turn to the back of the book, and see a picture of the author. And it’s the man you’re sitting next to, the author.