"Sharanya! Hey write me a poem yaar! Here's the pen and paper and everything!"
I stared at the human who had dared disturb my silent appraisal of the sky. I became completely transfixed, noticing flaws that weren't there before.
I looked at her and then the pen and the measly scrap of paper in her hand that she erringly had referred to as 'everything'. She looked a little like a lost puppy dog-forlorn and hopeful at the same time.
"What?" I managed to mutter.
"I heard from ***** that you write poetry! C'mon man!"
Apparently she was gender confused as well.
I held my breath to avoid making her the subject of an outburst she probably didn't deserve. I stayed still hoping that if i did she would stop seeing me. It jus barely managed to work-the first i mean-not the second.
She was still looking at me(It occurred to me that she could be looking through me but I'd resigned myself to my fate a second later). I wondered if she had blinked, or even moved in the last five minutes. I decided that she hadn't. I tussled with two unequally appealing options-telling her to buzz off and never bother me with creative requests again or write her a poem and be done with it. She was still looking at me.
When she looked like she would collapse from exhaustion I took the stationery from her shivering hands, grumbling silently, with a half smile on my face. I stared at it for a while. Nice time for my 'endless well of creativity' to dry up. I was tempted to tell her that my three year old cousin would be a better bet right now.
I finally put pen to paper and was silently congratulating myself when she chirped somewhere near my left cochlea-"What'reyouwriting?"
Refraining to state the obvious I looked at her for a minute then looked down. Damn-the pen had lifted-I'd have to start all over again.
Needless to say-or is it?- I survived. I did manage to write her a poem-the work I'm most ashamed of to date. She seemed quite pleased(It had her name in it) and it made me a better person, at least in her eyes. Alls well that ends well! Ciao for now! I have things to do-write bad poetry for one.