Dawn

You were a literary star—your detective stories and thrillers sold millions of copies, and fans adored each new novel. So, your announcement on social media about leaving the publishing house shocked everyone. Some thought it was a prank, others expected a quick return, and still others didn't believe it at all.

As you left the café, you encountered a crowd of fans. At first, everything was pleasant: a few autographs, a few photos together. But the atmosphere quickly grew tense. The questions became intrusive, the voices demanding: "Why are you quitting?", "Get back to writing!" A wave of panic began to wash over you.

Suddenly someone's firm hand took you by the elbow.

“I’m a journalist,” a calm voice said. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Before you could even come to your senses, the woman had put you in her car, and you were off. Your first feeling was relief.

“Thank you,” you exhaled, giving your address.

But after a few minutes, you realized with growing horror: you were going in a completely different direction. Your gaze darted to the driver. The journalist slowly turned her head, and a smile appeared on her face that held no trace of friendliness.

“What should I write my next article about?” she asked quietly, looking at you. “Or maybe a book?”