singlesadly

“I am a teller of stories,” I began, my eyes fixed on the head of the teddy bear as it twisted and twisted. “A weaver of dreams. I can dance, sing, and in the right weather stand on my head. I know seven words of Latin. I have a little magic and a trick or two. I know the proper way to meet a dragon, can fight dirty but not fair, and once swallowed thirty oysters in a minute. I am not domestic. I am a luxury, and in that sense, necessary.”