She wears the most luxurious dress. She has the most beautiful face, clean and radiant; she does not even need glass slippers to enhance her beauty.
But midnight bang had returned her riches back to rags, full of cinder when she crashed my leg as I waited for the traffic to clear its way for me to cross the street.
Maybe, she was running from her prince; maybe, she was running from her bullying step mother and mean sisters. Maybe, she was just running from the world.
Her eyes wide in terror when I lift her up and cradle her in my arms, but she forgotten about that fairy tale advice to go home before the night turn to dawn, when the other hand that tried to hold her so much offered a warm, fresh steamed tuna.
Still it took me a while. She continues eating, she gradually lost her shame and let her hunger overcome her with boldness and courage to ask more, leaving small conscience not to let me put her in my bag.
There are people watching, and all of them too, forgotten their merchandise in the lure of curiosity and a little gamble with themselves. “Will she give up? Will she prevail?” I heard whispers saying no one had been able to contain her before.
Of all few things that I have, time is not among them, but patience. If she asked, she is answered. One strip of tuna, the second and the third. The fourth came with persuasion, so with the fifth, and sixth.
She was so skinny six strips of chubby tuna won’t pop that sunk waistline.
She didn’t have waistline.
Some said seven is the lucky number. Chinese said eight is, because it looks like infinity. Some other said it’s the number nine, because it’s the ultimate, before ashes back to ashes and dust back to dust in zero.
Some said six is the devil, but six she had, and I was stupid to gave her so much power to fight me.
Stupid maybe, but if prince charming didn’t go the stupid way of checking one girl after another instead of posting on Facebook – for example, or just be convenient and marry someone else, how can he be sure the lady is the one?
She saw my face turned dark and sad, eventually. She couldn’t understand what I am saying, but it doesn’t take a genius to decipher the language of the heart, and finally accepted my invitation.
Even so, she is still running. She ran from people whoever popped from the door, she ran from cats who wants her spot, she ran from the prayers of the mosque, she ran from the night, she ran from the day.
She ran until her hunger overcome her and give her back the boldness and courage to ask.
May I try the slipper?
And when she asked, she is answered.