Free To Write Whatever I Want Today

My muse is on vacation, hoping I won’t write anything until her return. She is persnickety and prissy, and considers my stuff junky, trite even. I look at the page with a happy leap of pure thrill in my heart. I can do anything I want, and Trixie will have no say in it. Yes, her name is Trixie; she named herself, impressing her name in my head. I tried to name her Pixie, Dixie and Lexie at first, but she would not have it. I picture her as Tinkerbell except with black hair, red lips, dressed in pink. Just a second that’s the phone. “Hello?” “My hair is auburn, stupid.”