She stared at the blank page that lay on her desk for a while, then shifted her muddy hues towards her right hand that held the pen. Gently tracing her thumb on the fancy pen cap that was fixed on its end, she moved her arm forward, and pressed the tip of the pen on the blank page, observing the first colour of the black ink on the sheet.
Holding the pen tightly between her fingers, she traced a 'u' next to the previous letter. Pursing her lips, and writing in her irregular calligraph she completed the word, and stared at it for a long moment. She held up the paper again in the sunlight and shifted her weight towards the back, her head against the chair.
She bit her lip and traced her pen to create a small disfigured curve, attempting to jot down the the first letter of her name. 'S' ... She managed to write. She heaved a sigh and scooped up the sheet between her left fingers and held it high above to view it under the faint sunlight that shone into her room through a window behind her. Narrowing her eyes at the small letter, she tilted her head and hummed under her breath. "Who are you love?" she muttered as she plonked the sheet back on the desk.
Holding the pen tightly between her fingers, she traced a 'u' next to the previous letter. Pursing her lips, and writing in her irregular calligraph she completed the word, and stared at it for a long moment. She held up the paper again in the sunlight and shifted her weight towards the back, her head against the chair.
She moved the piece of sheet against the sunlight and observed it at different angles, her posture calm and composed. Her slow, yet deep breaths could tell nothing about the various emotions that were swelling up inside her. Her face was expressionless, but her toes were pressing deep into the floor below her. The fingers of her right hand were clenched around the pen that she held.
"Who are you..." she whispered again, her voice showing signs of both exhaustion, as well as a flamed curiosity that could never die.
She brought the sheet a few centimetre's before her eyes raised up her chin in an attempt to sniff in the scent of the sheet. Her eyes shut in unison with the intake of her breath. The sheet smelled of burnt charcoal, with a gentle outline of the smell of wet mud. She released her breath, and collapsed her hand on the desk, pushing her chair away from the table.
She turned her back, rotating on the wheels of the chair, and peered outside her window. Twirling the pen between her fingers, she placed it between her teeth and chewed on for a while, before flipping the pen away from her hand with a quick twist of her wrist, and snuggling onto the warm cloth of the chair that she sat on. "No one can answer that, but me..." she trailed off, as she shut her eyes close and slowly drifted off to slumber.
