You never really liked villains before,
never much understood the whole
But as you sit across from her
bent over her cheerios, frowning slightly,
bits of white fluff from her bathrobe
caught in her dark hair like seafoam,
you realize your favorite villain would be
any who had to go against
that. She feels your eyes and looks up,
turning the frown on you,
her mouth a delicate knot just off center.
"Stop, stop," you cry, choked with fellow-feeling
for the imagined opponent,
and your words hang startled in the air,
glowing in the yellow morning sunlight
coming in through the window.