Scene: Lobby of building where I write on weekends. I enter the elevator and one of the security guards gets on with me.
Security guard: You've been coming here for years. What, are you writing a book or something?
Security guard: What's it called?
Security guard: Your book.
Me (blatantly lying): It's untitled.
Security guard: You don't know the title yet?
Me (continuing with the lie): Oh, it'll come to me.
Door opens on security guard's floor. He gets out but still holds the door open.
Security guard: But how will I find it at Barnes & Noble?
I shrug, smile.
Security guard (as doors close): When you know the title, you'll—
The elevator doors close before he finishes his sentence.
Relieved, I ride the elevator to the top floor. Nice guy. Too bad I'm too anxiety-ridden and rude.