What's Your Status?" She Asked Him. "healthy,

When We Grow Up, We Lose The Talent For Loving Without Restrictions.

I Didn't Get Fired." "you Didn't Punch Your Boss And Get Fired From The Tribune? That's What I Heard." "i Punched What Could Loosely Be Called A Colleague For Cribbing My Notes On A Story And Since The Editor–who Happened To Be The Asshole's Uncle–took His Word Over Mine, I Quit." "to Write Books. Is It Fun?" "i Guess It Is." "i Bet You Killed The Asshole In The First One You Wrote." "you'd Be Right. Beat Him To Death With A Shovel. Very Satisfying.

Do You Always Get Away With The Outrageous?" "mostly. Are You Always S Beautiful In The Morning?" "don't Waste Your Charm." "it's All Right, I Have More.

Why Couldn't She Have This, Just Enjoy This, Without Creating Obstacles, Digging Up Problems, Worrying About Mistakes, About Tomorrow's? Why Let The Maybe's, The What If's, The Probabilities Spoil Something So Lovely?

I Need To Write To Be Happy.