VI (Part III)

Harris just sits there listening to my story. He doesn’t even bulge; he doesn’t even judge; he does not give me an exaggerated reaction, too. He just sits there with a cigarette in his hands and he is staring at the sky full of stars as I do. I like it, this way, the way he listens with no judgment and bias, I have known I needed this. This might be the reason why I can’t open this up to my mom, or to anyone else. I might have known beforehand that I needed a Harris to open up to.

“I couldn’t believe it at first,” I continued. “She’s the last person who I have known who can do that to me.” I notice that right now, I really want to cry but my body might have dried out of tears, I can only breathe out heavy sighs. I gulp more of my words. “You see, Harris, that issue has been a big deal with my company for weeks now. It all started when one of my critiques stumbled upon a less-read novel with a different title but the same content as mine. The Author’s notes of it have been di