Talk:Kikimora/@comment-26347931-20160408192012/@comment-27013779-20160410203716

Without speaking or giving notcie of thought, I step passed her, taking her by the hand and pull her into the store along with me. I catch a glance at her confused and bewildered expression, but continue to the lane of baskets and gently place her hands on the steering bar.

As I walk ahead, she seemed hesitant to follow, but followed nonetheless. I place my groceries in the basket and stop over by the women's department, taking up small blouses, skirts and, to my dismay, intimacies. All this happens while the Kikimora stares at me from behind with the most embarrassed expression, not only at the apparel that I picked out, but at how I had accurately picked out her size too.

We check out at the longest line of the store, Murphey's Law there, and I guide her to my slightly worn Chevy Tahoe. She helps place the groceries in the trunk; I show her to the passenger seat where she sits and I start the car and drive home.

When I arrive at my apartment, we each start taking turns carrying groceries up the stairs and into the kitchen inside. Not once did I speak to her the whole entirety of our interaction.

Fianlly, when we finished all of the hastle, I seated her down at the kitchen table and sat down opposite of her. I scribble on a pad of paper and slide it to her, which reads, "I am a mute. Seeing you're in need of residence, I would be kind to oblige you, if you may pay me the respect of being my caretaker."

No sooner had she finished reading, did she leap into my chair and hugged me, "I will! I gladly will!"

And to this very day, she can carry out and take care of me, without a single word.

-Carthois