My eyelids were on their way down when the fairy called my name. I was gone: too far into my own head, I couldn’t ignore it.
“Hello,” I say. She says nothing. “Hello,” I say again. Nothing. I pick the lid off a porcelain jar and put a pinch of sugar on my palm. I hold it up to her and she perches to rest.
She looks at the sugar and politely declines. She thrust her tiny foot into the mound and kicked up a sugar-dust cloud.
“Hello,” she says, finally. “Why did you wake?”
“Shouldn’t have I?” I ask.
“No human should see a fairy. No half-asleep human should see a fairy.” She says, sitting down at the edge of my palm.
“But you called my name.” I say, confused.
“I called a name, it just happened to be yours.”
“So, you weren’t calling for me?”
“I wasn’t calling for anyone, no.” She stands and shakes sugar off her small delicate wings.
I wonder what she meant when she said no human should see a fairy. Was she not a fairy or had I become non-human? My eyelids were starting to drop again; the left from being pulled down by the not-fairy, and the right from lack of will.
I wake up – sugar in my palm, pain in my head. The clock doesn’t move. The fairy was gone. Fairy? What fairy? Sugar? Where’s my coffee?
Word count: 238
Are you who you are by what you are capable of? I need sleep – you do too. Goodnight. I’m still trying to get my posting schedule back on track I swear.