Draped in tree branches behind your back,

You summoned birds to your side. 

 

“1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12”

 

When asked why 3 numbers didn’t make their appearances, 

You told me you don’t really like children of 12. 

 

As you continued wearing your sour expression, 

I asked about the number of happy endings a fairytale should have,

For the story to be complete. 

 

You answered 2. 

 

And I asked why. 

 

“Because you need two to make ends meet.”

 

I argued that 2 is also a child of 12.

But her reply to that was..

 

“Yes, but 2 is also a prime number.”

 

“Then what about 11?”

 

“If you split it up, won’t it become 2 as well? Then it will become the imposter and the fairytale won’t be interesting anymore."

 

“Then what is fairytale to you in the first place?”

 

You looked at me and smirked. 

 

All of a sudden, only darkness draped around me and something sharp pierced me from behind. 

 

“This..is my fairytale.”