Do you have a new novel?

I do. It’s called Office Girl. It’s about two young people, Odile and Jack, who, in the last year of the last century, decide to start their own art movement. The art movement only lasts two or three weeks. It’s also a kind of love story.


On Tuesday night, around five p.m., the two of them—Odile and Jack—are in the break room just before their shift starts. And they are staring at each other suspiciously, Odile peering from behind a diet soda pop can, eating a peanut butter sandwich with the crusts cut off. And Jack begins to talk first, asking, “So, are you working tonight?”

“Duh,” she says, smiling, with a mouth full of bread.

“I guess so,” he says.