I wanted to tell her no, don't stop reading them, these things I write, I write them for you, I write them for us. I write them because I can't say them aloud, because I'm a fool and a coward and saying things out loud makes them real, and writing them down makes them fiction, please don't ever stop reading them I don't know what I'd do if you did. But instead:
"My writing is me, laid naked and bare."
A split-second later, before the words had even the time to settle between us: "Excuse me ma'am, but could you take a picture?"
I ground my teeth, accepted the lady's camera. I clicked the shutter. The moment was gone.