With the muse

I’m getting ready to leave to work and I’m trying to choose what necklace I’m going to wear. I take one and try it on and suddenly I realize I’m not alone. The annoyingly arrogant muse of mine has just arrived.
“Are you really going to wear that?”
“Excuse me? You’re not allowed to have an opinion on this.”
“I’m allowed to do what ever I want.”
“Yeah. Sure you are. You are my muse, you should give me opinions only when asked.”
“I think you just did.”
“I didn’t, thank you very much. And where have you been, anyways? I have work to do.”
“So go get it done.”
“You are not much help, you know.”
“Am I supposed to be?”
“Oh, shut up. Can’t really understand why do you even bother.”
“It’s fun.”
“Yeah, I get it. You just want to have me in an awkward situation, right? To see how would I behave?”
“I want to have you in private, and you know that.”
“Yeah, right. Of course. By the way, you’re not real.”
“Why are we having this conversation, then?”
“It’s called imagination. Ever heard of it?”
“I’ll bet you have.”
“I should have, anyways. The thing is, you haven’t been around lately.”
“I have had some things to take care of. Remember?”
“Yeah, and you haven’t. Thanks for nothing, man.”
“Do you think that it would be easy for a non-existing creature to have something happening?”
“Oh, I thought you just said you can do anything you want.”
“I did. And I can. In your head, hon.”
“Yeah, in my head. But you know, you’re wrong. It’s my head. I think that your capability of doing anything you want is restricted a bit by me.”
“And your capability of writing anything you want is restricted a bit by me.”
“Oh? Really? I can do it by myself.”
“And still you’re accusing me not being around?”
“You are just imagination. I’ve made you up.”
“Taking credits of making me up? No, you haven’t, actually.”
“You’re such annoying muse! I’m making this conversation up, get it?”
“Yeah, but not me, hon. And I don’t think I was made as a muse in the beginning.”
“And I can very well understand why. Just decide, stay or go but this hanging around occationally is making me insane.”
“I know.”
“Uhh…”
“You love me for what I do to you, don’t deny it. You just love to not know where and when will I pop up next. You like adventures and excitement. I know you.”
“Shut up and just behave.”
“Make me.”
He gives me a crooked smile, glances me in his own quirky way, and leaves. And me, I’m slightly confused at this point. But, yes, I may be writing today. That is weird.

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