"I suppose this means I'll be getting your number," he laughed a little, his mood improving exponentially by the second. He just tried not to think about the personal stuff that was in his book. He didn't know how sharp Callaway would be in noting how autobiographical the book was. There was even a whole section of the book where the little king is put in a mental institution for his vehement adherence to his delusions about his real home. Parker had spent some time there due to his lack of feeling like he had a real home, or that his real home was painfully intangible to him. He felt alien so much of the time. Not human. Not a part of society.
When his sandwich came, he was thankful for the distraction and he dug in with both hands. "Why do you want to read my book?" he asked quietly.
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