The doorbell rang.
I wasn't expecting anyone and, besides, I had work to do.
She stood there for a moment looking at me as I held the front door open. 'I'm Rosewyn,' she said, eventually.
'Rosewyn.' She spoke as if we knew each other.
'I'm sorry, But I don't kno....'
'Look, can I come in, at least?' she glanced behind herself at the dull grey day. There were a few desultory snowflakes in the air. 'As you can see I'm not exactly dressed for this weather.'
As she spoke, I noticed she was wearing jeans and a vest top with a loose check shirt over the top of it. 'But....'
'Listen,' she stepped forward through my front door before it occurred to me to try to stop her. 'I'm Rosewyn... I'm the new protagonist for the story you were just about to write.' She strode past me into the hall.
I shivered, noticing the draught from the open front door for the first time. I shut it and turned to her... to Rosewyn. 'You are... what?'
'I'm your new central character, the hero... the heroine.' She stood hands on hips in the manner I'd imagined her only a few minutes before. 'I only wish you'd created me in some more suitable clothing for the season.’
I glanced down and she pulled the loose shirt tighter around herself, buttoning it up, giving me one of those looks.
'Sorry,' I said.
'Well, at least your not one of those male writers who insist that we female characters have to have enormous ones.' She hugged herself.
'Are they... I mean... I could... if you want?' After all, I do know about subtext.
'No... they are fine...' she looked down at herself. 'Really. I just wish they weren't quite so noticeably sensitive to the cold, that's all.'
'I could...' I pointed in a general direction towards my computer through the open doorway. There was a blank page in there, waiting for me... for us. 'Shall we?' I said, indicating the open door. 'Sorry about all that, the cold and everything. I did... I was imagining you in the summer, lying in a sun-dappled meadow.' I walked through and sat down in my writing chair.
Rosewyn sat down in a chair, pulling it closer to the writing table. 'So,' she said. 'What happens to me next?'