One of my old tales 🙂
Rumi Wilde had the uncomfortable feeling that she would never be able to live up to her name. She was, of course, named after the celebrated Persian poet and Sufi mystic, Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, and also had the misfortune of bearing the surname evocative of the great Irish writer, Oscar Wilde (no relation). Yet, Rumi Wilde had not a creative bone in her body, and always thought her name quite ridiculous. Most people declared she had a beautiful, exotic name, but Rumi knew they must be disappointed once they realized how dry and uninspired she actually was. Even her physical appearance was unremarkable – a small, dark Plain Jane.
One gloomy Monday morning, Rumi released a listless sigh as she fixed herself a mug of black coffee in the office kitchen. The sigh seemed to originate from the very core of her being, and the rush of breath swept…
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