Agatha

Agatha is a grumpy little thing.

 

She is fluffy and round and would be quite cute if only she weren’t so unsettlingly upset all the time. Agatha can be upset with anything. The tiniest little glitch in her plan and she starts emitting complaints in a high-pitched voice or a low hum depending on which will agitate me more at the time.

 

Agatha also likes to be wide awake in the middle of the night telling me about all the wonderful people she met recently. On such occasion she is, in fact, less grumpy. Like tonight. She squats on my left shoulder, because she says that one is a little broader than the other, which makes it near impossible for me to brush her off it. Also I guess ‘broader’ means generally more comfortable. So she sits there and talks like a tape worm.

 

She goes on about all the work she’s been doing. Lately she seems very much into building castles out of sugar. Now that she refrains from having any kind of sugar in her diet, she needs to find another good use for the crystals. Or so she says. I don’t really get it but I am, as always, listening. I inquire why she would want to build sugar castles and how big they are. Not big, she answers, the real value lies in the details. Wall carvings, pillars, frosted window panes and what have you.

 

Apparently she met quite a few crazy elves during her tour through Iceland and they have each put down their name for a sugar castle. I point out that it might not be the best idea to have structures made out of sugar in the Icelandic climate but Agatha is stubborn. When she decides she doesn’t want to hear me, she does not.

 

Instead she moves on to the next topic. (Mind you, it is almost three a.m. in the morning and there is no sleeping for me when she is so very wide awake.) Concerning the next topic: Apparently she met someone. I can’t help but inquire if that someone is as fluffy and round as she is. Of course, she confirms, just more fluff. I wonder how that’s even possible.

 

You know, the thing is with gentle creatures like Agatha and many others of the fluffy kind, all they really have is their heart and they are much too delicate at times. It leads them. It leads them anywhere. Some decisions can be made in passion. I envy her for that especially with her being so tiny. Now all I can do for her is listen to her stories. (A lot.)

 

Oddly enough she seems quite composed. And she says she does not dare to think about ‘what ifs’. Although who in their right mind does not think about the ‘what ifs’?

 

So she says it’d be okay if this fluffy and her were not to cross paths again. Agatha is very sincere when she says this. I want to believe her. I match her gaze as best as I can with her sitting there on my shoulder and I nod. She smiles and suddenly goes really quite. I realise that I want us both to be happy.

 

So I guess it is okay for me, too, that what she is saying is only half the truth.