Maria Temple said nothing and waited for me to continue. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Nothing.
I realized that I may have given her a slightly misleading impression of my behavior.
“To be clear,” I said, “I’m not some sort of... stalker. I merely found out where he lives,
and I copied out a poem for him, which I didn’t even send. And I tweeted him once, but that’s all.
That’s not a crime. All of the information I needed was in the public domain. I didn’t break any laws or anything like that.
And you’ve never found yourself in this sort of situation before, Eleanor, with anyone else?
So she thought I might be some sort of obsessive, serially fixated on strangers. Charming.
“No, never,” I said firmly and truthfully. “He was just... he caught my eye, piqued my interest, that’s all. He was, you know, handsome...”
There was another long pause. Finally, Maria Temple sat back in her chair and began to speak, which was a relief.
It was exhausting, answering all these questions, talking about myself
and worrying whether I sounded as stupid, as embarrassingly naïve as I thought I did.
“Here’s a scenario. I’ll run it by you and you can see what you think.
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