“Betty,” Harry said. “Betty!” She didn’t respond, lost once more in her own world.

He took a deep breath. “Mr. Williams apologized for what he had written,” Harry said. “He had been searching for something that may not exist, and it had blinded him.”

“Betty looked up, listening.”

Harry continued. “Mr. Williams had looked at Betty’s work anew, and found in it much to appreciate. It had taken him to a place he never dreamed.” He held out his hand. “Mr. Williams reached out, asked Betty to take his hand, to leave the place she had created for herself. In return, he promised to work with her, to help her understand her gift, and maybe understand a little more of himself. He said that she might be the very thing he had been searching for, a writer able to make her words real like no others could.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and then Betty broke the stare that had kept her riveted on her notepad, and looked up at Harry. Something stirred deep within her eyes, and Betty reached up and grasped Harry’s outstretched hand. He pulled her up and out of the crater, which faded and closed as she left it.

“You…you found me,” she said. “Thanks.”