"She wore sunglasses when I found her again in the Nice museum.  Wearier of a second chase than a first meeting, I sidled beside her.  We both stared at a painting of a giant lime on a tablecloth, radioactive green on frosting-pink.

'It’s a pleasant break from lemons,' I said.  I actually wanted to blurt that I felt more like a friend than a fan, that I was aware of her struggle with publishers and her defeat in keeping a lady.  If she only knew how I understood her hatred of the States and her disgust for human waste.

'I’ve had to spend most of my 30s in New York, too,' I told her.  'Isn’t it splendid to not be freezing in November?'"

-From "Hello, Ms. Highsmith, 1964"