Lydia Davis Books Novels & Stories

I’ll work around you. As she stared, the words looked foreign at first. Then she read them again. Her lips parted slowly. Her book was happening for real?! Lydia Hartman? She was the one who edited Mason Chloe's memoir, so she heard. How the hell did Claire manage that? Niya covered her mouth with her palm and sat on the closed toilet lid, blinking back a weird swell in her chest. Rapha was outside buying her clothes she couldn’t afford even if she robbed her past self and ten future versions. She was wearing a five-digit price tag, and now her book was being edited by Lydia freaking Hartman.

The door swung shut behind him. I sat alone in the diner with so many unanswered questions. I hadn't touched my coffee. My mind was spinning. I felt like a whole lot was going on, and I was in the dark. ******* I drove to Lydia's apartment and parked across the street. The lights were on. I watched the windows. Lydia appeared at the window, looking out at the city with her arms crossed. She wore beautiful purple lingerie. She looked tempting and inviting. "David, you are such an asshole." I hit my head.