I don't trust him, but he seems to trust me.
Why is that? I don't like him.
"Are you touched in the head?"
My greeting is not warm. Yet he remains.
He cannot say my name, it would seem.
"Just call me Ziio." I shorten it for him.
He still follows me. His name is Haytham.
I look at him over my shoulder. I grin.
I wish I could see his face as I jump.
The wind and snow surround me as I fall.
I am halfway to the tavern when he catches up.
Hay is still stuck in his hat from his landing.
As we leave he gets into trouble. I roll my eyes.
"And you thought I was going to be the problem."
He's hurt, but makes sure I am not before accepting aid.
Haytham probably is touched in the head, but maybe I do like him.
Persona poem project from my creative writing class, decided to use the persona of Ziio.