Dream Girl

She was a dreamer of sorts. Rather, she was a dreamer in all sorts of ways. From the reckless swinging of arms, the little hop in her walk, the constant ruffle in her hair, the unshaped eyebrows, the dragging of syllables while talking and all other things not primp and concise.
Today, was one of her days, where her mind was at its best to dream. She lazily crept out of bed and hopped between the papers, wires and other myriad objects strewn across the room. The sight of the place could give her mother the spooks and merely thinking about it, made her chuckle. She finally made her way to the journal lying open near the bean bag. She grabbed it with one hand and started her search for a pen that wrote amongst the million other nothings scattered around. Several futile attempts later, she found a crayon box with most colors missing. She pulled out one and plopped on the bean bag which gave a menacing whooshing sound. Pulling her knees close to her body, she propped the journal on her knees and began scrawling with the crayon across the unruled pages. A few lines later, she threw her journal aside and called a landline number in India from her calling card and spoke the words - "miss you maa" in to the voice mail before hanging up.
How she hated the time lag !!!

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