wishmore

A screen flickers on, showing an empty room with a spotlight aimed in the center.

A Muslim girl wearing a light blue hijab walks in and steps into the spotlight.

"Hey there, people who decided to check out my profile! So, uh, my name is Wishmore and I, uh..."

 Wishmore fumbles for flashcards and recites monotonously.

"...think it is very nice to make your acquaintance. " She squinted at the cards and looked back, irritated. "Who wrote these things? I don't sound like this."

Someone whispers to her.  "I did? Huh. I must've been super tired or something 'cause there's no way I can pull this speech off."

Wishmore tosses the cards and sticks her hands in her pockets. "Okay so, you know my name is Wishmore. I don't have a last name. In case it wasn't clear from the first sentence, I am Muslim. No, I'm not Arab,  my parents are Southeast Asian and we live in America. "

Wishmore paused, thinking of what to say next.

"Umm, I like cats, ice cream, Harry Potter, and Percy Jackson. I like writing but if you don't like my stories, just stop reading them and don't hate."

She frowned, unable to think of what to say next. "What do people say in profiles?" Wishmore asked someone off of the set. An incoherent mumble comes through. "Oh yeah! I hope you like my stories! I'd love it if you comment or vote. Your opinions are appreciated!" she said in a chirpy voice. 

"Like that?" Wishmore asked the same person. They answered with another mumble. "Good, cause acting all cheery like that drains my energy." She looked back at the camera and noticed the light was still on. "Oops. Guess we were still recording." Someone laughed offscreen. "Uhh... HAVE A GOOD DAY!" Wishmore ran off the set and with that, the screen went black.