I could have managed this on my own, but Anna, I think, had noticed my red-rimmed eyes and was trying to keep me company. Her own eyes, glossy black in a heart-shaped face, would study me solemnly when she thought I wasn't looking. I didn't even bother to express it. It was a padded envelope, about eight by ten. Galleys for a book.
Some editor wants something blurbed.
I pointed to the colophon on the envelope. I might have also told her how the cover letter would read. How it would acknowledge the many demands on my time and the number of manuscripts that must come my way each week. Meaning, of course, fags. But I kept quiet.