The Worlds of fiction

"What if they do exist?"

Max said nothing. He had heard this before. Many times.

"Every thought… every imagination that a being creates, when given enough love and recognition, does not just stay as fiction it becomes reality."

She spread her arms, gesturing at the endless shelves filled with books behind her.

"Yes, fiction is real. And because of that… authors are gods."

She let the words sink in.

"But… gods with no cosmic power of their own."

She tilted her head, her voice turning playful yet profound.

"And how is a world created, you ask?"

She tapped her fingers against the desk rhythmically.

"A world is born only when a story gains enough love and satisfaction. It is not the author's imagination alone that brings it to life, but the belief and passion of those who experience it."

She adjusted her glasses, her smile widening.

"One might deny it."

"Why?"

"Because it is fiction."