Tell me about yourself 

He mutters slowly as his eyes go over my handcrafted life

Caught in several pages of Microsoft 

Oozing out of the A4, un-hinting at what I should say.

I try to recollect what part of my childhood would help him solve the puzzle 

Of who I am today

And why I am sitting here 

In one of the several rooms of handcrafted routines.

I linger a minute longer on school days

And wonder why I had forced myself

Out of all the threads of friendship

That pulled me out of puberty

Why I had left those handcrafted weaves

Of limitless needles, pinching me through girlhood

His eyes keep searching mine as I come nearer

To the years of today

But drift further from any hopes of a coherent answer 

His keen expression betrays the impatience 

That I hear in the fluttering sounds of those sheets

Which I had handcrafted over limitless nights

Piling my days of necessitated effort

Into a sequential series of clear mindedness.

He utters once again as if I had let myself forget 

Tell me about yourself

As I sink deeper into me and repeat 

Tell me.

I am sir, well suited for the job.

He smiles and says 

I can see Maam.

But I insist

Tell me about yourself.

I open my mouth and let the sounds escape 

As our eyes meet in a familiar state of unknowing 

I am a girl Sir. And I'll be leaving now.

I rise with nervous courage

Trembling in its birth

Arms shuffling over the handcrafted mahogany 

Hands reaching to learn handcrafting.