“You were brave, and I’m so proud of you. That said, I hate to read, gush, and run, but the waiting room is full of patients here on their lunch hours.”

“Same. Except in my case, I need to bill some time to clients before I go home and study. What does the famous essayist have planned for the rest of the day?”

I was glad for the subject change. “The famous essayist,” I said in a fancy voice, “is going to start researching her next story.” Of course, I’d be doing this in between reading the comments. Writers were urged to step away from the comments because readers could be cruel, but…well, that wasn’t happening.

We ended the call, and I read the article for the third time. I was still in shock it made the headline. Alone in the room, I said, “This is a big deal.” Derek’s confidence in the story put a lot of pressure on me to deliver. I gulped. If the response was overly critical or completely lacking, it could seal my fate as a forever out-of-work freelance journalist.

To place boundaries on my comment-stalking, I set a timer for an hour, during which I researched my next pitch. A journalist was only as good as her last article. The material Grace from Books on Main had shared, about her fathers meeting and falling in love while competing for the lease on the store, had inspired a new story about business partners turned lovers. Over the next hour, and with the help of Instagram, I found a true story about old friends who reunited at their high school reunion, discovered a common dream of opening a bakery, and pooled their savings to do just that. Two years later, their Hoboken pastry shop was flourishing, and the former classmates were now engaged.

When the timer went off, I set my phone to the side and refreshed the page on my published story. With my teeth threatening to dig a hole in my lip, I scrolled through the text, past the random embedded advertisements for The Company Store and Weill Cornell Medical Center, to the bottom. Next to the links to share on Facebook, on Twitter, and via email, a thin, blue, two-and-a-half-inch-long block prompted me to read the fifty-seven comments. I sucked the breath I was holding further into my mouth and clicked the blue line.

Tara Stein
New York, New York

OMG, I loved this story and how Adina rediscovered her passion for our fine city. Go, Adina!

I released my breath. So far, so good.

William Witherspoon
Jersey City, New Jersey

Adina: You’re a twit. Everyone knows Hallmark is fake.

I rolled my eyes. Clearly not everyone, Bill. I paused to gauge my reaction to the name-calling. It didn’t sting as much as I’d feared. Moving on.

Paula Rund
New York, New York

I enjoyed the vulnerability. But I want more on Finn!