Last night, as I was putting out snacks for the Kathy Fish reading, I glanced out the windows and saw something long and black and funereal pull in front of the store. What the heck, I thought, a hearse? Miss Prothero's Books is not dead yet! I moved in closer and saw that it was a limousine. Prom night, I wondered, but aren't the boys who live upstairs too old? Then the driver opened the door. One by one they stepped out, elegant women, serious women, women dressed for a reading. At the end of the line of women was Kathy Fish. Now there's somebody who knows how to treat her fans, I told myself. I wished I was serving champagne.
The reading went well. I'd requested 15 copies of A Peculiar Feeling of Restlessness. All fifteen sold. This is a first for Miss Prothero's. Usually, I have to send some back to the publisher. My only complaint was that the reading was too short. But maybe that's the way of short short story writers. They always leave you wanting more.