❝ oh my fairy fucking godmother, we get it! you love her! for the sake of everyone on this table, please stop eye-fucking her. ❞
❝ i- what?! i'm not- i don't- i don't like-like her like that! ❞
❝ oh please, save the bullshit for chemistr...
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THE TALE OF THE WINDOW PRINCESS
ONCE UPON A TIME, IN A FARAWAY LAND...
There once was a woman, her blonde strands were the shade of the grains of midsummer crisp sand and yet as soft as the gentle breeze that pushed ripples into the calm seas.
She held sophistication in her stance, gliding like a swan in her peaceful steps. The woman was both gorgeous in personality, her very name brought waves of joy to those who spoke it. The woman was also blessed with many riches and a podium of status that no one could reach. But what is riches and beauty, if you have none to share it with?
The blonde woman, simply put, was lonely. She would stand and watch through the ivory frames of her castle glass window, and stare.
She would stare out through the paned glass at the world beyond her very room. She would stare at people who walked hurriedly, late for an affair. She would stare at people who laughed without a care in the heavy-burdened world, people who sang merrily out of tone till the cracks of dawn, shoes in hand, their drunken verses bringing a bittersweet melody. She stared at people who ran, trying to run away from the problems that life had caused them (they would always get caught in the end). She would stare at people who danced in moonlight, their faces reflected on midnight stars.
Oh, but the most beautiful moment of all, a moment that even the woman's eyes couldn't understand. She would stare at people who fall in love.
She stared as they held hands, a warmth encompassed between their palms that she herself would try to mimic, but it just wasn't the same. She would stare as they gave the gift of each other's last names. She would stare as they domestically kissed goodbye in the morning,knowing they would see each other again late in the night.
She wanted that. Her lonely heart cried at night, screaming for a love that she could hold hands with, a love that she could give flowers to, a love that she could kiss farewell and just know, they wouldn't leave her alone in the dark.
She wanted that, no, she needed that. Her soul yelled in desperation, needing to find its other half, the half that would complete the woman. She would be complete. She would fill in the empty pit within her. She would be able to walk, laugh, sing, run, and dance too! She wouldn't be alone.
So she waited.
She waited, standing tall behind the window-pane frame. She would stand there day and night, not daring to leave her post. She would count the seconds, minutes, days, months until her Prince in silver metal chains on his dirt-less ivory horse would arrive. He would hold her hand, he would give her gifts, he would touch his lips against hers. She would be his, he would be hers.
