The Duality of XanA pointy little creature, all elbows and awkward edges, with a cheerful smile stretched across its bright orange face. In the middle of my kitchen table, it was reclining against the teapot.
“Who–“ I hesitated. Frowned. “What are you?”
“Goblin.” A creaky, scratchy little voice like dry fish bones.
“Why are you in my kitchen?”
“Is home now!”
I had no idea what to say to that.
The little creature patted the teapot. “May I have tea?”
Well, it would have been rude to say no.
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