I looked up carefully from the page as I finished reading, knowing full well that Tristram would be searching my face for a reaction. Sure enough, his hazel eyes were upon mine intently, and I knew that despite his casual smile, he was anxious for my opinion.
“It’s readable, Tristram. But where is it going?” I asked matter-of-factly. At the time, I was very nervous as to what he might disclose in coming chapters about what had happened between us.
“What do you mean, ‘where is it going’?” Tristram retorted. “Direction is something decided in hindsight.”
“Tristram, you have already confessed that this novel of yours is going to be somewhat autobiographical. What I have read just now is very autobiographical.”
very“So?”
“Well…aren’t you worried that the people you have written about are
