I loved her, even if she never knew my name. She was my Ariel, and I know I am her Eric.
No matter what she says.
#1 in short story on 02/07/18
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I tried to keep myself composed, humming softly as I waited for the water to boil. It was difficult, suppressing the urge to look back and see what Ariel was doing, but the promise of having her relax a little and get used to her surroundings balanced the urge.
It also gave me time to go over my plans.
Besides, I could hear her sit, so at least she was still here. Despite that, I had almost ruined it. My anger had gotten the best of me. If I wasn't carefully composed, the one desire I'd had since I was ten years old would crumble, leaving me cold, empty, merely a husk with no operator.
I couldn't have that.
So instead, I switched off the burner and poured the hot liquid into two cups, and dumped the rest into the sink.
"What flavor tea would you like?" I asked, opening the cabinet slowly.
There was a pause - I almost had to check to make sure she was still living - and finally, I heard her turn in the chair. "Anything works, as long as it's not bitter." She spoke quietly.
I didn't bother to respond and selected some box mom had gotten me as a housewarming gift I had never bothered to open. "Would you care to try this? I just bought it, since it looked interesting."
She muttered a sure, so I cracked it open and gave us both a bag. Immediately the red seeped into the clear water, swirling and dancing.
