R76

We were seated in a kitchen that nestled in a former hallway, tucked in between two rows of counters, refrigerator, dishwasher, oven. Feeling of comfy, cozy spot for creativity was marred by food stains, overflowing ashtrays, bottles of rancid milk and white whine, caked puke pools on the floor and array of kitchen gadgets eagerly waiting for their mistress to put them apart and give them thorough wash that would restore them their pride.

She clicked with her fancy lighter and lit another slim cigarette. Puffed a smoke and sipped some white whine.

"I write in English. I have so much trouble thinking only in one language. What I need to express sounds so much better in another language and yet there is that something which asks for another language to support my vast ideas. I'm going crazy here", she smiled and searched my face for clues about my reaction.

I adjusted my tie and took a sip of coffee as excuse for my silence.

"I mean... I did hear your proposal, but hey I will not change anything. I like it this way. Besides, I don't buy into the rules, like... maybe one day when I decide to start a novel... but this... oh, cmon it's just a story...", she dragged few anxious puffs and slammed the cigarette into the ashtray.

Then a story crawled in the kitchen. Big headed, smiling and messy. It tried to stand up, but partly due to weak legs, partly due to wide clothes, it fell on it's cute chubby butt.

I sighed and opened the official notepad.

"Miss Juliana, sadly I will have to report something I'm simply witnessing, which is a gross negligence towards a story. Ministry of story protection can't allow this to go on."

"You can't do anything... it's MY story... why should I care, I'll write it the way I think it should be..." she hissed and lit another ciggy.

I closed the notepad and shrugged.

"I beg you to reconsider", I tried though I knew what her reply would be.

"Get out! Ungrateful bastards, I let you in my home, I show you my masterpiece and you just think you can walk over people and their stories, well thank you and no thank you, go away!"

I bowed and headed out. At the door I turned to look at the story one more time. It was rolling on the cold kitchen floor, blissfully busy with attempt to put it's toe into its mouth.

"You'll hear from Literary police, have a nice day..."