My Life in Crime

I staggered down the block. I knew what I had to do. I had been drinking again and now I was desperate. I remembered faces, not names.
So I waited in the shadows as they emerged from the building where the writers met. I used to be part of that group. Then my career took off and I left. Published books, signings, TV appearances, readings, the whole bit.
Six months ago I just ran out of words. Couldn't write a stinking sentence. My career has stalled, my agent was hounding me. I'm facing bankruptcy. I watched them leave. Who to choose? Too big. Too fast. Might recognize me. Finally I chose one, a slim woman. Followed her to a dimly lit street. Now or never. I pretended I had a gun in my raincoat. Jumped in front of her.
"Gimme words! Now!!"
Oh horror! I recognized her and she me. It was Allie, who had bought my first book, Allie who worshiped me.
"Joe! What happened to you? You look terrible."
"Words! I need words!" That's all I could say. She reached into her pocket and gave me a slip of paper.
"This is all I have on me." She was uncomfortable.
I grabbed the slip and read it--'palpable'. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? I couldn't get away fast enough. I had lost her respect. I stuck the word in my coat along with a parenthesis I has swiped from someone at a poetry reading.
I would have to build on this or risk sliding further into a life of crime.