The line stretched out the door and around the corner, a solid stream of excited readers eagerly clutching their copies of The Enchanted Forest—the highly anticipated fantasy novel by debut author Clara Winters. The bookstore was packed to the brim, the air buzzing with anticipation. Clara sat behind a table stacked with signed copies, her nervous fingers tapping the pen in front of her.

Her first book signing. Her first real book signing.

“I can do this,” she whispered to herself, forcing a smile. “It’s just a few hours. Just... a few hours.”

Her publicist, Doug, stood beside her, wearing an outfit that screamed “I’m professional, but not too professional.” His constant pacing around the table didn’t help Clara’s nerves. She needed the comfort of routine—sitting in her quiet office with a cup of tea, writing in peace. But here she was. A packed room. Hundreds of people. Her book. Her. It was all too much.

The first person in line approached. She was a woman in her thirties, beaming with excitement.

“Hi, I’m so glad to meet you! I just loved your book!” she gushed, practically bouncing in place. Clara smiled and held out her hand, ready for the first handshake.

“I’m so happy you enjoyed it!” Clara said, her voice a bit too high-pitched, but at least it was sincere. She grabbed the book and began signing, but in her nervousness, she accidentally wrote “Thanks for reading, Clara Winter!” with a y instead of an s.

The woman looked down at the book and froze, her smile slipping for a moment. “Is that... is that how you spell your name?”

Clara’s face turned crimson. “Oh, no, it’s Winters—plural. That’s just... my handwriting! I’m... sorry about that. I’m so nervous.”

The woman smiled back, though the expression was a bit strained. “Oh, no problem! I’ll just... um, tell people it’s a special edition!” She grabbed the book and rushed off, clearly relieved to escape before the awkwardness could set in.

Clara looked up at Doug, who had been watching the exchange with a furrowed brow. “This is fine, right? Just a small typo...”

Doug blinked at her and nodded too enthusiastically. “Of course! It’s just part of the charm. You’re human! Perfect!”

But then, things began to escalate.

Next in line was a young man in a graphic tee who looked far too excited to be here. He practically skipped up to the table.

“Clara Winters, THE Clara Winters! I can’t believe I’m meeting you!” He leaned forward, whispering like they were in on some grand secret. “I’ve read every chapter, twice.”

Clara tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace as she signed the book, making sure to spell her name correctly this time. “Thank you so much! I really appreciate your support.”

The man paused, squinting at the cover of the book in her hands. “But—wait. Your book doesn’t have a subtitle. It’s just The Enchanted Forest.”

Clara blinked. “Yes, yes it is...”

He looked up at her with deep confusion. “But it should have a subtitle. You know, like, ‘The Secret of the Crystal Leaves’ or ‘The Mysterious Tree of Doom’.”

She laughed awkwardly. “Well, it’s just The Enchanted Forest because... well, I thought it sounded good.”

The man narrowed his eyes, as though he had just uncovered the grandest mystery of the literary world. “I’m going to be honest, Clara. That sounds a little, uh, underwhelming. You should definitely think about a subtitle for the next one.”

Clara chuckled nervously. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks!”

But as the line continued to grow, so did the chaos. One person after another asked for increasingly bizarre requests.

A woman, holding her toddler, asked Clara to sign two books for the child: one for the kid and one for the kid’s stuffed unicorn. Another fan handed Clara a plush dragon, demanding she autograph it. A guy dressed like a forest elf—complete with green face paint—wanted a “private reading” from Clara before he would leave, despite the fact that there was a huge line. And then there was the overly enthusiastic grandmother who wanted Clara to sign her entire bookshelf. All of it.

By the time the hour was almost up, Clara was exhausted. Doug had somehow managed to convince the bookstore staff to pass out cookies that were horribly stale, and the coffee had run out.

But just as she thought she was out of the woods, a woman in a full-on medieval gown approached. She had a dramatic flair, and her voice boomed across the room.

“I came here to meet the author who has redefined fantasy for a new generation!” She said, striking a pose. “I’ve even named my entire cat collection after characters from your book! This one is Briarheart, and that one is Beren.”

Clara’s eyes widened in shock as the woman proudly placed two cats—dressed in tiny costumes—on the table.

Doug, who had been standing in the background for far too long, leaned in. “Clara... it’s time to wrap this up. I think we’ve hit... peak.”

Clara nodded, looking at the line of exhausted, slightly confused fans. “Well, that’s it, folks! Thanks for coming!” she said, standing up to signal the end of the signing.

But just as everyone began to shuffle out, a loud crash sounded from the back of the store. A bookcase had fallen over, a stack of books scattered across the floor, and someone—no one could tell who—yelled, “I got my autograph... but I lost my dignity!”

Clara just looked at Doug, both of them silently processing the absurdity of the event. Finally, Clara exhaled.

“Well,” she said, as the last straggler left with a signed plush unicorn in tow, “at least it’s over. And hey, they’ll probably talk about this one for years.”

Doug smiled weakly. “I don’t think we can ever do this again.”

Clara nodded. “No, we definitely can’t. But hey... at least we’ve got a great story for the next book launch, right?”

Doug grinned. “Maybe we’ll call it The Book Signing That Went Wild.”

Clara groaned. "Please, no."