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Homegirl

I am a home.

Of course, I’m also a girl. The home part, you can’t really see. But there’s a spell that installed a handy little apartment inside my imagination. My residents step through a portal in my hair, and turn into figments until they come out again.

The spell places some restrictions on me. My brown hair stays straight and ankle-length, since it is also my entry curtain. I can’t age, since that would mean depreciation. And it wasn’t cheap, either.

For the last twenty years, I was indentured to the family who paid for it, serving as their ultimate “mobile home”, catering to their every whim. Very handy for grocery shopping when you can take your home inside the store. Good for travel, too.

But now I own myself again, and the space inside my head. And now I’m looking for a different kind of tenant. Someone who won’t mind being my figment, instead of the other way around. And I’ve seen the way you look at me.

So if it’s not more than you bargained for…how would you like a live-in girlfriend?

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