He really had piles and piles of stories that he wrote. I couldn't imagine how in the world to file all of them, and I couldn't figure how in the world he could imagine all of them.
But what really bothered me is that he buried himself in his work. That's right. He was actually up to his neck in that pile of stories and he would just stare at me all the time. I don't know why he watched me so much, maybe he didn't trust me or something. But who likes to be spied on when they are trying to work? Not me! So I quit.

