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Do You Think?

By Casshire


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She shrugged flippantly in response to the message displayed on her computer

screen. The insistent blinking of a yellow icon, made to resemble what she

often thought was a letter, was stoically ignored. Her obstinence was

short-lived. In the following moment, she had reached forward, guiding the

mouse towards the image.


You promised me you'd do that fic *today*. ;_;

Canting her head, she permitted herself a thin-lipped smile, torn between

making a sudden departure and capitulating. In the end, after some

deliberation, she opted for the latter. It was just her way. Acquiscence

was delivered in the form of a similar message, eliciting a pleased

response. She smiled, accepting her fate. The dynamics of their relationship

involved a few constants - the most noteworthy was her inability to reject

the requests of her sibling. A finger lifted.

Not sibling. Not in the true sense. But just as important.

The other girl was her soul-sister, the biological sibling that had been

separated from her by circumstances. They shared many of the same interests,

the same passions. They told each other secrets. They trusted each other.

But every now and then, she got tired of surrendering to the other's whims.

It wasn't that she didn't like doing what was demanded of her -- namely,

writing but she was inclined towards other activities. Study, for example or

chatting with a seldom-viewed paramour. But the other girl would not

understand. She could not understand. In many ways, they were as different

as light and day.

She loved her soul-sister.

But she could get very frustrated at times.

Eyes danced across the books sprayed across her desk before they moved

towards another window, regarding the surreptitious message that had just

appeared with some bemusement. She would like to have spent time with her

beau. And with other pursuits. But there was the fic and the promise to

write it. She would have to do it first. It was their way. It was always

their way. She would love to inform her heartsibling that she had other

things to do, but that would only incur sulking and an endless deluge of

complaints. Why bother?

Why indeed.

Fingers flittered nimbly across the keyboard, typing out a curt observation.

It would hurt to receive her message. The words were carefully chosen to


Heartsib, do you ever think I want a rest from this? I want to stop writing

for a while? I know this is *your* passion, but that's just it. I have other

obligations. I have other wants. I don't want this. I don't want to spend

all my time writing - it's restrictive. Give me a *rest*. I write

impulsively. Writing just isn't my life, as wonderful as it would be. You've

got your own dreams. I have mine. They just don't coincide, for the most


If you love me ... give me a break.

She paused.

Closing her eyes, she clicked the cancel button. Love meant commitment.

Love also meant acceptance.

Even if it meant the extra pressure in an already stressful existence.


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