The Writer.

‘Why do you stay so quiet?’
‘Because I have tried talking.’
‘What is that suppose to mean?’
‘Detail?’ burns off her cigarette.
‘As you wish.’ looks in the filled ash tray.
She yawns ‘I tried talking. Quite a lot. People found my ideas wrong. My mind disgusting. My words vulgar. My thoughts foolish. I stopped. I rather not waste my energy talking to some puppets.’
‘Well, why are you so apathetic?’
‘It happens. You get hurt on and on’ waves hands in air ‘and on. You are expected to be a mature person from birth. You get treated like dirt. One eventually expects others to be mature enough from start.’
‘Your voice reminds me, why are you so deadpan?’
‘Apparently I show a lot of hate in my voice…’ she gets up and walks towards her kitchen ‘My voice is naturally so full of disgust, even when I talk normally, people dislike it a lot. Thus, I tried making it as emotionless as possible.’ dis-balances and gets a hold of a shelf.
‘Pardon me but are you drunk?’
‘What? No. No, no, no. It happens. Sometimes senses knock out. Ignore.’ emphasizing on the last word, she smiles and nods.
‘….As you wish. So why are you an antisocial?’
‘What? No. I am not, I am an introvert. I like the quiet more. Besides, no one listens to me anyway, so I am very much involved in myself.’
‘What about your attitude?’
‘Not one person thinks I have no attitude.’ she pulls out a glass bottle from the fridge, leaving the door open, she makes her way back.
‘Well, do you? If yes, why.’
‘I do not. I just can not stand stupid people and their close minds, my words are harsh so I ignore and people call it attitude, if I speak, that is attitude, as well.’
‘Is that why you stay away from others, so often?’ he gets up and shuts the fridge door, returning to the sofa and picking up his notes.
She nods and pulls off her shirt, changing into a sweater.
‘I just do not understand how you changed so much.’
‘I never did, I just bothered about others a lot more back then.’
‘Now you don’t? Why?’
‘God. Why so many questions, darling?’
‘I have to know, miss.’
She picked up the recorder, bringing it near her mouth ‘If I had to tell my readers all about me, I would have told a long time ago, don’t you think?’
He nodded and shut the recorder. Packed his files and got up.
She yawned ‘No. Stay a while. I would like that.’


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