Lydia Davis At the back of the auditorium, as the theater fills for the event, I stand up from my seat to let a woman get past me to her seat in the row. “Thanks,” she says. But I have misunderstood. She was not thanking me, she was thanking the usher, who is standing a few feet behind me. “No, I meant her,” she says, without looking at me. She just wanted to make that clear. |