"What the hell are you doing?" I snatched my journal from the hands of a nosy co-worker.
She shrugged and contorted her face into an expression of equal indifference. "Just wondering what you spend so much time working on."
I tucked the notebook into my backpack and slammed the locker. When I turned around, Lacy wore the same unbothered look. "So, you went through my locker, dug it out, and just thought you'd have a look around my private thoughts?"
Lacy pulled out a chair from the table and placed herself in it with more fanfare than called for. "We work in a bookstore. Do you know how many people here are writing the next great American novel?" She paused, waiting for my answer. When she didn't get one, she popped a grape into her mouth and continued. "All of them. Including the ones
