Write about a museum with an exhibit that no one wants to ever leave.

“So I saw your book tonight, and I just wanted to say, you should get a better typesetter.”

A kind, generous, regular said that to me when I came in on my day off.
I was the typesetter. I hid my head and laughed.
Three years ago I was dumb enough to think that the small percentage of the public that still read creative fiction didn’t care terribly about the typesetting of a book. I thought they cared about the thoughts that carried epiphanies into the finish lines of their hearts.
I thought about...