Present

She is folded into my mind, sleeping.

“Wake up!” I beg her. “Help me. These are your words. This story is yours. I can not alter it without your voice. Without your vision. It’s unnatural. It’s disrespectful. It’s not mine.”

She stirs, reluctant. “I don’t belong. I made a mess of things and left . My naivete makes me dangerous.”

I counter: “Your naivete makes you charming.”

“Don’t! You’ll regret it when I start demanding time. I won’t be any less innocent. I promise you.”

“Please! I need you.”

Timidly, childlike, she peers out and takes a look at the screen....