And he worked so hard...

Friday as I was driving home from work, Wayne called saying he wouldn't be home until after seven. I figured I'd just go down to the mall and pick up some clothes and a new book. We have a discount bookstore here in Dover called Atlantic Books, but I think I've nearly exhausted their science fiction/fantasy supply. I headed to Waldenbooks intent on buying PBW's If Angels Burn. As I approached the store, there sat a man at a rickety folding table with a marker in his hand and a stack of books beside him. No one was in line to have a copy of his book signed. I don't think anyone even noticed he was there. I wondered if Waldenbooks even knew or if he brought the table from home and set it up there. He just tapped the marker on the table and looked a little embarrased. I felt bad for him. I thought about going over and asking what his book was about, but I knew I probably wouldn't buy it, so I just walked on by. Yeah, I suck.