ATLAS

"So what did you ask for?"

I looked up from the laptop. "Sorry D., loose lips sink ships."

"Fair enough." The Knight stirred his tea and took a sip, the steam fogging his glasses in the cool evening air. "I am curious though. Will you at least tell me if it happens?"

I smiled. "When it does, I won't have to."

We sat in comfortable silence as I re-read the paragraph in front of me again. "I don't know D., I think it's good. What exactly did you want to change on this?"

His lips pursed. "I don't know. A subscriber said it was too cliché, so I was wondering if there was a way to subvert the text and to make it more interesting."

I frowned at him over my glasses, aware that it was precocious, but still secretly enjoying that I could do so now. "What's wrong with cliché if it's well-written? Personally I'd leave it just the way it is."

D. shrugged. "Nothing I guess, I just...well, I just really want people to like it. Are you sure it's not too generic?"

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. "I don't think so. And even so, it's a strong peice. Did you like make a post or something specifically asking your audience for feedback or advice on how to improve your writing?"

"No."

"Okay." I took my glasses off and rubbed my eyelids. "Alright, so...let me ask you this then: does this subscriber dump a significant amount of money into your work or commission things from you regularly?"

The Knight shook his head. "No, not at all. But they do comment frequently and interact with my articles."

"I see." I picked up the glass chainik from the table and refilled our mugs, one of which had mushrooms painted on the side- a recent present from the Giant. The rich, heavy scent of Russian tea leaves and lemon hovered around the table like a cozy fog. I grabbed a half-empty honeybear and gave it a few good whacks against my palm before squeezing some of its half-granulated contents into my tea. "Tell me D., why do you write?"

D. reached into his pocket for a cigarette, the glow from his lighter illuminating his soft, almost childlike features in a warm glow as his gaze followed a passing car in the street below. The Giant had been right; he did look a lot like Harry Potter. He sighed. "Because if I didn't write, I think I would lose my mind. It's like breathing. I don't think I could exist without it or I'd explode."

I nodded. "I get that, especially with...well, our more unique situations, but the point is, it's primarily something you do for yourself, right?"

The Knight shrugged, then exhaled quietly and nodded, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips as he did so. "Definitely."

"Good." I closed my laptop and folded my hands together on top of it. "Then don't change anything. I think it's good, and quite frankly, it sounds to me like your reader can go fuck himself."

D. laughed, seemingly surprised by the obscenity. "Ah- Sorry, I've never heard you curse before. Do you...really think so?"

I smiled, trying not to inhale his cigarette smoke. We clearly didn't spend enough time together.

"Of course! You're an amazing writer. You don't have to write something 'different' just to be edgy and your poems are like mini paintings of the very best of life. They're perfect. Don't waste your time on stupid people's opinions. If they don't like your work, why are they reading it? That's like someone ordering a hamburger from McDonald's every day, then coming through the drive through and trying to order a taco instead of going to Taco John's. You're not obligated to change your menu to cater to them."

"I hadn't thought of it like that. Thank you."

"I gotchu boo."

D. finished his cigarette and reached for one of the lemon wedges on the napkins I'd set out and squeezed it over his mug, then began nibbling on the leftover citrus pulp.

"How's Gabby?"

"Good- sassy."

I slid my phone over to him and showed him videos from my most recent visit. We chatted for a while longer, then eventually fell back into silence, listening to cars pass below. The comet still hung in a pale streak above us; the subtlest of celestial magic.

"It's not very bright, is it?", remarked D.

"Mm. Sort of like your reader."

D. chuckled and blew on his tea, momentarily fogging his glasses again. "You're a lot different from when I met you."

I smiled, tears suddenly welling at the edge of my eyes. A familiar pang twisted in my chest and my fingers shook and started to tingle. Odd - what on earth had triggered that? I pulled my hands inside my sleeves and craned my head up towards the sky and away from my friend, blinking rapidly as I pretended to look at the ATLAS comet.