Anthony placed one leg on the railing and leaned forward so that it took all his weight. His crotch became elongated and he held this seam-bursting pose with the permanence of a bronze sculpture. "It must be disheartening for you to be a writer with nothing to say" he said. Zoe winced and turned splendidly florid. "It's not that I've got nothing to say," she said, "I have. I was once a future writer and now I'm the nemesis of current living writers – I'm the former future author of the great literary vignette." She laughed and stared at his tight pants and the ridiculous position in which he'd cast himself. "You can't do anything these days without someone thinking you're a creep, can you Anthony?"
Welcome. Anonymous Author holds a mirror to the face of humanity, asking what it really means to be human,
and in doing so blurs the line between what is good and bad writing.
