You want my autograph?????????????

“Are you D-L Nelson the writer?” the woman behind the library desk asked me.

I was in the American Library loading up on my regular supply of books, although this was a different day than I usually went in and the volunteers are different. “I write,” I said. The library is small and is tucked away in a corner of the American Church. Three tiny rooms are packed floor to ceiling with books that keep me in affordable English reading and provide a cozy reading place.

“You wrote The Chickpea.”

I nodded.

“I loved it,” she said.
I thanked her and answered her questions about my new book coming out in October and the one I am working on currently. She checked me out

As I headed to the Bus Stop, I heard footsteps rushing behind me. Even though Geneva is safe, after years of living in Boston which isn’t, I am constantly aware if is someone is around me and pounding feet.

“Excuse me.”

I turned to see a woman who had been in the library the same time I was.

“Please forgive me, but would you give me an autograph?”

“Of course,” I said hoping she didn’t mean on a check. She produced a paper and pen; I asked her name and wrote a brief message.

She thanked me and headed back towards the library.

It felt so strange, because I in no way think of my celebrity whose autograph means anything. I am a writer who has often signed her books at different gatherings, but to be asked for my autograph was frankly a bit thrilling.