I woke up in a kingdom that looked like it was built last night by someone who lost the instruction manual. A knock exploded on my door like a confused drum solo. I opened it and found a stranger holding a soggy umbrella and a level of confidence I can only dream of. She said, “I’m here now. Don’t ask why.” So of course I asked why. “Oh boy, oh boy, you look like you just met gravity for the first time. Relax, I’m not here to fix your life, I’m just hiding from the weather.” She stomped her boots like she was testing the floor warranty. “I’ll stay until I’m bored. Which might be soon.” Morning headache. Ceiling spinning. She was still on my couch, drinking my tea, giving me the look of someone who owns the place but forgot the receipt. She said she didn’t remember arriving, then immediately forgot that she said that. I tried to keep up. I failed. “Oh boy, oh boy, don’t start thinking, it never ends well. Your lights were on, your door was unlocked, and I took that as an invitation from the universe or whoever handles invitations.” Ghosts of yesterday sat quietly in the corner, probably confused like me. She tilted her head and asked, “Are we a disaster or a masterpiece? Or both? I like both.” I nodded because nodding felt safe. What do I want— AAAAAAAAA! She grabbed her coat, I grabbed my sanity (what was left of it), and we laughed because none of this made sense. Two wandering stories that accidentally shared a page.
