It feels very weird when a person you know vaguely by sight stops you at the entrance to the library to ask cheerfully, “So what did you decide to do for him in the end? Your husband? I read on your blog yesterday that you were planning to do something nice for him.”
Obviously, I’d never discussed the blog with this person.
It’s so weird when people do that. It’s like I’m a character to them. Which is fine because it’s my choice to write but still, it’s weird.
P.S. I’ll prepare an “identity dinner” for N in honor of March 8 is what I’ll do.