I sit before the mirror, the wind blows my parted hair a fray, “your window is open.” I tell her as she lifts her head and glances at me, to the window, back at me and then returning to her writing. Her face… it looks like mine, her voice… it sounds like mine, but she is not me but the other me in the opposite world where she lives in a house and her parents are wealthy, in the other world where she has not a brother but a sister, I’ve always wanted one of those.

I laugh as i think about something in the distance of my mind. Her blue eyes glance at me again– she rolls them and continues to write again.

“…So, what are you writing?” I question with a smile, hands folded against my dresser.

Looking up she pauses her eyes to look at me and it seems she is focusing on my features… then again maybe not because I soon realize she is not looking at me but past me. I sigh in dimness and glance down at my thumbs that now fiddle with each other.

“I’m setting up the format of questions before I interview you.” she continues with her writing not ever daring to glance into my disrepute eyes. “I don’t see why you are acting like I don’t care, when you know responsibly in your mind that I do. You’re a ninny if you are thinking that way but otherwise, I respect you.”

Silence fills the air once again with only the bright sunlight glaring through her window and the flowing curtains that long to hold the untouchable air that pushes it so forcibly. I watch her closely now, her quickly moving pen as it carcasses the paper, her straight black hair waves gracfully around her head as if dancing. Her long eyelashes blink with every other second, bellowing the last. Eventually she looks up almost disgusted and blurts out “Do you mind staring at me? Its my turn, the interview now begins.” she doesn’t smile, she doesn’t grin, no emotion at all, her darkly shaded eyelids burst her screaming blue eyes into my sight almost dominating me as she collects her papers and pulls out her sheet of freshly dried questions.

” Commençons ma chère,” with a faint gleam in her eyes she was ready to begin, as was I. I flattened my skirt against my legs and brushed off excess dust that fell upon it, I fiddled with my bang and made it cover my left eye once as it was before, folding my hands in front of my chest I looked up and the questions began.

“This so called Frog Prince, what made you chose the name?”
“It Began from a pair of poems I had written subconsciously, one referring to my writing personality, and the man upon which she loved.”
“So this second poem was in fact an imagined character no?”
“Yeah, but in a weird way it was and is my alternate personality.”
“Upon the Frog Prince being her “lover”, what made the coincidence come to life with in the boy you had met?”
“I felt happy before I liked him, no misjudgment, no torture, no craving. The “coincidence” as you say, came to life the day he had read it, it was just a random ‘here read this’ type of situation, and crazily upon him cycling through the words he instantly assumed the poem be about him. With this I slowly began to realize–“what the hell, I can’t possibly, like the guy I detested only the year before.” and thus began the struggle to crave a being who in the end denied ever liking me in response, fair, fair, in reality I knew I won the war.” I smiled grimly laughing as my head fell back and I stared at the ceiling.
“So in words, he did in fact show affection, but towards the ending of this cycle?”
I snicker, “More or less played with my feelings, but its alright. Why? Because, I had written to him and since he figured his ‘dumbfounded’ responses would get me to spill the beans failed greatly, it burdened him day after day, wanting to figure out who Anonymous was. I laugh at the thought because in the end I remember the final day he appeared in class, and was surrounded by his friends, of course I played the girl who listened to her ipod which actually happened to be on pause during his discussion of “You like her don’t you!” *silence* “If you like her I will tell her, HEY!” “No! No! I… think I will” at least I think that is what he whispered. Ha… I truly find it funny that I prevailed in the end, like usual. ”
“Do you still have a sense of wanting for the “Frog Prince”?”
“You kidding me? Of course not, I’ve set my sites on a taller being of light… and hopefully… just hopefully.”
“Will you keep this as a reminder of past mistake?”
“Only if I know I can progress onward, then yes.”
“This ends our interview, I have no more questions, yet I wish you luck with the “taller being of light”.”
“Thanks.” I smile, she reaches her hand through the mirror to give me a handshake and we part ways, continuing life in our own worlds.

Until next time…

Au revoir…