fairytales

"Mira, if you don't open this door this instant, I'm going to break through your window."

"Peter, I'm reading."

"Tell me something I don't know. I'm serious. Open the door. We're going out. As in outside. As in into the real world."

"I can't. I'm just getting—"

"To the good part. I know. And I don't really care right now. For the last time, open the door."

"No, Peter! I'm sick of you telling me what to do."

"You're being unfair, and we both know it. There's only one thing I ever tell you to do and you ignore me anyways, so it's irrelevant."

"I reserve the right to make my own judgments. I'm an adult."

"No, you're not. You're like some starry-eyed kindergartener. Stuck in—in a fairytale world!"

"Then my fairytale world suits me just fine."

"Mira. Please. The rest of the world is moving on without you. Grow up."

"You know what's unfair, Peter Killinger? You telling me to 'grow up' all the time when you only treat me like a little kid!"

"Don't slam things around. What are you doing, throwing a temper tantrum?"

"I am not throwing a temper tantrum!"

"It sounds like it—whoa. Almost clipped me in the nose with the door there, you know. …Ow!"

"You listen to me, Peter. I am reading. A. Book. Yes, it's a silly fantasy book. Yes, it has dragons in it. And you know what? It makes me happy. There is little enough to be happy about in this world and I'll be damned if I'll let you take away something I love."

"Mm. I'd forgotten how hard you hit. Of course, that's because I never see you anymore."

"You—you're not even taking me seriously! I… You know what? You're not going to see me anymore. Ever. It's o—mmph!"

"Excuse me, what was that? All I heard was unintelligible muttering."

"—get your hands off!— Don't touch me! Didn't your mom teach you any manners?"

"You were saying something stupid. It was my bounden duty to stop you."

"If I stopped you every time you said something stupid you'd never get to open your mouth."

"I'm crushed. Mira, don't close the door."

"I'm going back to my book. Move your foot."

"Look at me."

"Move your foot."

"You think I don't know you're unhappy, Mira? I'm not blind. But this is ridiculous. You've been in here for days. You won't answer calls, you won't go out to eat--when is it going to stop? When you've read every book in the world?"

"What if I say yes? What are you going to do, Peter? What if I really am just that desperate for a happy ending?"

"Then come outside and look for one! The world is bigger than words on a page!"

"The world is more depressing than words on a page! Everything works out in the books. The wars can be won. The day can be saved. Out here? What works out in the real world? Nothing."

"It doesn't matter whether you like it or not. The real world is the fact. You can't escape it by—by locking yourself in your apartment for days on end and burying your nose in a book!"

"Thanks, but I'll stick to my happy endings."

"They're not your happy endings. They're a delusion, Mira. Those stories are never going to belong to you. They're happening to someone else, a character that doesn't exist. There's nothing wrong with reading. There's everything wrong with pretending that the rest of the world doesn't exist. If you want good stories, come out of your literary prison and live one yourself."

"Peter… just go home. Please."

"What is it going to take to get your attention? Mira, I'm begging you!"

"Please, Peter. Leave."

"Fine. Fine. If you want me to leave so badly, I'll leave. But let me say one last thing, Mira. There is little enough worth loving in this world. And I'll be damned a thousand times over if I'll let you take away something—someone—I love. Mira, I love you, even though you're crazy and stubborn and stupider than anyone I've ever met. I hope you look up from your pages long enough to think about this just a little bit."

"Peter, I…"

"And I'm not leaving permanently, so don't think you've gotten out of this so easily. It's not over. I will be back to fight with you about this some more. But if you decide on your own that you'd like to try living—call me. …So, did I persuade you with that dramatic speech? Did I? Yes? Want to go out for dinner, now that I've persuaded you?"

"Out, Peter."

"Ah, is that a smile? You're smiling. That's progress right there."

"I'll call you."

"Good—wait, really?"

"Yes, I will. I promise."

"I did persuade you! Well, then, how about dinner? While we're progressing merrily and all."

"Not now. You see, I'm reading this book, and I was just getting to the good part when someone rudely interrupted me…"

"I get the point. I'm going. Keep your promises, Mira."

"See you later, Peter."

"Is that a promise too?"

"Not if you don't leave."

"Ooh, I'm going. For real. Love you."

"I… love you too."

"See, isn't progress sweet?"