Her

Sunlight, bright and warm, kisses her skin. I can feel the red with my eyes still closed. I barely wake up and she’s already on my mind. She's got a busy day ahead and probably got no time for me. I slowly walk across the room. I look through the glass and I find her. She's got sleepy eyes but manages to give me half a smile. Her eyes crinkle at the ends when she smiles, and the six o'clock sun bounces off her childlike face. I admire her beauty. Her smile broadens as I do, filling up her face. Her eyes glow bright and sparkle with hope. She looks young and naïve. 

I feel nothing like her. I search for peace and stay away from chaos. I look for deeper meanings and darker secrets in conversations. I look at the big black clouds and wait for the smell of the rain to hit me in the face. I wish for the little pup at the end of my street to wag his tail at me. I feel like dancing on the rainbow every time I make a soul happy. I crave for a good book and a cozy corner on bad days and mind my own business on good ones.

But she... she is different. She looks like she's ready to dive into an adventure to take over the world, right out of bed. Surely, we have nothing in common. 

As the clock strikes seven, I tie my hair up in a bun and get to work. I dress her up and brush her hair. I work on her face till she looks like a million bucks. In a chipper suit and a ponytail, she looks like she can be on the front page of Forbes. I admire my work of art.

She walks with confidence, her heels clicking on the wooden floorboard of her office. I tag along with her, still wearing my pineapple print pajamas, with a rubber scrunchy struggling to hold my hair together, and an old tattered paintbrush sticking out of my messy bun. 

A blue-eyed boy walks past her, wishing her a very good morning. He's got a ruffled black mane and a delicate face studded with tiny brown freckles. As expected, he doesn't notice me. She navigates through the day with familiarity, rarely needing my help. I skim through song lyrics and paint bright blue eyes on a canvas board while she types away busily. Her boss walks up to her once in a while to make an extremely unnecessary observation, his lousy eyes roaming all over her crisp white shirt. "Get a life, you moron!", I scream. "Great sir, I'll take that into consideration. Now if you'll please excuse me....", she walks away politely. And as expected, he doesn't hear me. 

After a long day, we finally get into a cab to go back home. I stare at the streaks of headlights racing along the roads, while she stares at her laptop screen. As we reach home, she gulps some food from the kitchen and I put her to bed. She needs to rest. As she drifts into sleep, I sway with the winds and run across the skies. I see the blue-eyed boy and for a change, he notices me and introduces me to a clumsy guitarist with a goofy smile, who's apparently been tagging along with him all this while, just like I've been doing with her. As we talk through the sunrise, her alarm starts beeping. It's time for me to get back. I wake up from the bed and walk across the room, over to the mirror. She's right there, staring at me. I tell her about my conversations with the blue-eyed boy last night. She tells me it was something called a dream. She smiles at me. I smile at her. She needs me. I need her. She loves me. And I love her right back. "Let's get started", we tell each other. 

Surely, we have nothing in common, except for an identity.

(Short story based on prompt no. 13:

 

Come down to where all of the others fell, Get lost in the dark to find yourself. -Where the Lonely Ones Roam, Digital Daggers)