Odd Project

Mia walked into my office a few weeks ago with a sheepish smile on her face. "I have a proposal," she murmured.

I thought she was going to make a prankish proposal: skip a quiz, pass a class, take a nap. An academic joke between student and teacher.

"I wanna write a book."

I was a little surprised. She doesn't like English. She doesn't like writing.

"I don't like writing," she explained. 

I nodded, gaging her level of seriousness.

"I want you to help me because I'm not a very good writer. I wanna write my life story, sorta."

Something inside me ticked, like a cog that was trying to turn for the first time in a while. It made my heart beat. I wasn't jumping up and down with excitement, so she kept going. 

"I wanna have a book based on my life. I want you to help me write it. I want you to to write your story in it too. Kinda combined, you know? I think people could learn from my life. My mom dying and all."

I thought about the way Mia talks. I thought about her ambition and honesty. 

I thought about the way I write. I thought about my ambition and creativity. 

I thought about our parallel experiences and our perpendicular lifestyles. 

I thought and I consented to the project. 

I told her it would be really good catharsis. She smiled blankly.

She told me it might be really good money. I smiled blankly.

We will be an odd pair. An odd, perfect pair.