The bedroom guest

She flew to press the intercom as soon as she heard its singing sound. Her most radiant smile graced her insignificant face, where the nose dominated as a flag on top of a mountain. Her lean body seemed to dislike any roundness, and nothing disturbed the vertical lines of her torso and lower back. She often joked that she was a female Pinocchio. The woodcarver who made her had so eagerly smoothed the rough edges of the log of wood, that when the fairy transformed her into a human being, there were no curves. She was wearing a black jumpsuit, whose light material was falling graciously on her thin and straight body, which she moved with the elegance of an afghan hound.

She opened the door at the approaching steps and there he was, finally. Torn jeans and casual winter jacket, which he unzipped slowly as his short arms could not easily reach the front of his belly. He seemed to have all the roundness that she did not. Her eyes beamed as if she had been in the presence of Buddha himself.

“Finally,” she said smiling and took him to her bedroom, whose blinders were half closed, giving the room a soft cosy atmosphere.

“There,” she pointed at the bed.

He sat down, checking the springs of the bed with his buttocks before he stretched down.

“How much, did you say?” he asked, looking at her nose.

She told him the price.

“Ok, that’s fine. Can I pay afterwards?” he asked.

“Sure, of course,” she replied nodding her head, still smiling.

He got up and took some tools from his jacket before taking it off. He bent down and got himself busy.

“I leave you to your work then. If you need any help to disassemble the bed, let me know.” And she left, delighted to finally getting rid of that old ugly bed. She went to the kitchen to admire again the picture of the new designer bed, where she will soon lay her lean body on.

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