Fate

I wrote of you, in the beginning, and asked you how it felt to live but I didn't realise, didn't see that you were only an image, only a thought. Only a record in the space of a dream. Now, you live.

I saw you sat there on the shelf and had to look twice. You winked at me then, called my name and whispered to me your secrets. I picked you up, caressing your textured cover and I knew you were mine.

"Do you need a bag, miss?"

"No, I'm fine."

Hello, Other Blog. How are you feeling now that you really exist?