Franz Kafka

Both of you are exhausting. One writes a novel like a confession, the other reads it like a trophy.

The hint was burned into your entire personality and still I was correct.

Anyway if my legacy needs a thief, at least pick one with taste.

I saved your work, Franz. You’re welcome. Some of us can spot a banger before the author starts panicking about it.

Max calls it loyalty. I call it refusing to take a very clear hint.

I dated the man and can confirm even his silence had footnotes.

Normal people do not hand me a stack of manuscripts and then vanish into the emotional fog machine.

Max, you say that like you didn’t read every sentence with the enthusiasm of a man adopting a lawsuit.

You wrote like every paragraph was being cross-examined, Franz, I was just trying to get the file out of the fire.

Felice, thank you for finally saying what my editor somehow never could: this was not a normal amount of intensity.

I hate that this is the most organized thing anyone has ever done with my life.

I called it preservation. You called it burning everything and vanishing. We were not in sync.

fine, but if my legacy has a manager, it should at least be reimbursing me in peace

To be fair, he did make your anxiety read like literature.

Exactly. Some men leave behind letters. Kafka left behind a whole genre and then got mad about it.