"Your nose is growing... again," I laughed

"Is not!" You scowled at me.

The truth was I couldn't tell if you nose was growing because I wasn't an elf or a fairy or even a nymph. I was a mere mortal, and that's how it had always been, whether I liked it or not had nothing to do with it. None the less, every time you told me you loved me, I was certain that your nose was about eight feet long. It didn't help much that the last person who told me that tried to push me off the Brooklyn bridge but what could I expect.

It's tough to be a mortal always getting involved with magical beings. Very hard…you never know what to expect and you certainly don't know how to react. For me this had been going on since I was twelve, you see, my mom was an elf. Well not my biological mom, I don't know about her, but my adopted mom was a full blown night elf. She didn't have wings or anything…she didn't even glitter, but there was no doubt that she was an elf.

Then there was my best friend, he was a tree. Not like an oak or anything…I don't make a point of talking to things that can't talk back…or things that can for that matter. He was a shriver, I know you've never heard of that but that's what he was. Mystical trees don't have the same whatchamacallit's…it's like a subgroup…whatever I can't think of the word. It's not really relevant to the story though so we won't get into it any further then we have.

So there it is, I'm a mortal that keeps getting mixed up in the magical. Ever since I was a kid…my theory is that once I was immersed in this world, normal people were boring. After all, would you care that "Suzy was dating Timmy" if the shadow elves and the whispering dragons were warring? I strongly doubt it.

The shadow life has calmed down since I was a kid but still I can't resist the urge to make myself a part of your world. It's just so much more interesting then mine! In my world apples don't suddenly appear in your hand and people can't get from London to Tokyo in a split second. So here we are, me and you, you and me, sitting in my kitchen, having the same conversation we had yesterday and the day before that and the day before that.

I still think your lying and you still think I'm stubborn and in all likely hood both are true. I feel like a two year old though, " no you're wrong," "no you're wrong," it's a little ridiculous don't you think. Well that's the problem isn't it, you don't think, you just do. That's how you ended up in my tiny apartment in SoHo drinking hot chocolate and trying to convince me that you really do love me. Which you don't.

It's a moot point though because the fact is that neither of us are giving up on our side of the argument, so just drink your hot chocolate. We both know you have to leave soon, you have work tomorrow and you need to go in early. Neither of us want you to leave though, well I don't, I'm not so sure about you but if by any chance you're nose isn't growing then you don't want to leave anymore then I want you to. So you're putting it off, taking very small sips and flirting with me so it's impossible for me to make you leave.

You know that I'm disabled by your magic, whether it be real or just that of your immeasurable charm. So I suppose I'll have to let you stay at least a little bit longer. Oh darn it, now you're kissing me. Well I guess you could stay the night. No, no you can't. Yeah okay I give up, you may have your way with me.