[ WP ] A severely depressed man writes a book that ends up curing depression in everyone who reads it except him .

Gary noticed the snow had started coming down harder as he stood in the lobby of a grungy high rise lobby, the walk home from his agent ’ s office would be a long one. Not that there was anything to come home to, it had felt empty since Cheryl had left a year ago, now all he had was his fichus. Gary glanced at the flyer posted on the worn cork board next to the front door. **Writers Work Shop: Become a better writer in just 30 minutes! ** This was his last stop, nobody thought his self-help book “ How I Am Not Depressed, and So Can You ” could sell; maybe it was because the scent of depression stuck on him so strongly that it rendered the book and its advice confusing. But Mr. Bachstein of **Bachstein Literary Agent and Taxidermist** had actually like it, and agreed to get 1,000 copies published by the end of the month. 
 
 Gary clutched the empty manila fold which once held his manuscript tightly to his chest and thought about his interaction with Mr. Bachstein just thirty minutes ago. He recalled the strange mix of animal heads adorning the peeling burgundy walls, mostly deer and moose the whole way down the hallway to Mr. Bachstein ’ s office. 
 
 The office of Mr. Bachstein was just as eclectic. Papers piled so high they looked like mini skyscrapers, various varmints with screams on their faces frozen in time, and more boxes of Red Vine licorice than he could count. He knew he had to put on his Happy Mask, as he called it. It was the only way he would n't smell the depression. 
 
 “ Squirrels $ 100, raccoons $ 150, and deer $ 250 whatever you got, I can stuff, ” Mr. Bachstein said without even looking up. 
 
 “ Uh…no…sorry…no raccoons, but I do have a book I would like you to take a look at… ” Gary said hesitantly. Mr. Bachstein looked up from his glasses whose lenses were the size of small TV screens. He was in his late 60s, balding except for a few grey wisps that clung onto the top of his head. His shirt was a greenish black color, and his “ Merry Christmas ” sweater vest had a Christmas tree that lit up. Gary didn ’ t think this was a guy who could help him, but he was out of choices. Gary knew he didn ’ t deserve a real agent, so this was what he had to go with. 
 
 “ Oh good, I was hoping you weren ’ t bringing me another family dog to stuff. ” Mr. Bachstein immediately stood up and extended his hand. “ Nice to meet you, I ’ m Gerald Bachstein, and you have a book you want to sell. ” They shook hands and Gary introduced himself. 
 
 “ Yeah, uh, here ’ s the book, ” Gary said, handing Gerald the manuscript. After a few minutes of paging through it, he spoke up. 
 
 “ Yes, I think I can sell this, ” Mr. Bachstein said confidently. 
 
 “ Really? I mean great! I thought nobody would be interested in this. ” Gary could hardly contain his excitement. 
 
 “ Leave the manuscript and the business to me. ” Gary handed him the manuscript and they discussed how the deal would work. Half an hour later, he had his first book deal. 
 
 The next six months seemed like movie. Despite Mr. Bachsteins duel business, he had actually pulled through and got the book published. In a week, the original 1,000 copies were sold. In a month, over 1,000,000 copies had been sold. Everybody believed Gary had found the key to happiness, his advice seemed so good. There were interviews, morning talk shows, and he even started doing motivational talks around the country. He put on his happy mask before everyone of those performances, the audience lapped it up. But he still thought about Cheryl, the empty apartment, and the fichus, because that was his life and he had to live in it. 
 
 First post... probably crappy... but thanks for letting me work my writing!
