One evening I was working, reshelving some fiction, when I caught a glimpse of a stranger reading Henry Miller in the stacks. He had a slightly flushe... look to his cheeks, which caused me to blush. I could only imagine what part of that phallocentric writer’s book the stranger currently read. I looked at my wristwatch and realized closing time loomed. Tentatively, I approached the man to ask him if he needed any help and to suggest that he take his selection to the circulation desk. He looked. Honestly, don't be upset." No! I mean, this is too much. I'm so sorry!" There's nothing you have to be sorry about. It's not your fault." No! It is!" Jayne started to tear up."What?" Jessica was more confused than anything."Oh god. Listen, I know this might sound crazy, but what's happened iscrazy! This is the only thing that could make any sense out of this." What are you talking about?" Jessica was starting to get upset over whatJayne was saying."Listen, I knew things weren't working out for. More

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