I wanted her opinion, even though we've been separated for over a year. I gave her a copy the day she brought our son, Adam, to the house so that he could spend another weekend with me. Julia was going to a psychologist's conference. When she returned on Monday, to pick up Adam, she handed me the manuscript. It's not a story.
Stories are about people.
Stories are about real or imagined lives. This is just some notes. Notes, or maybe a self-serving treatise. For the record, I'd appreciate it if you would leave me out of your work. You don't even have the decency to change my name.