Do you believe in magic? they asked.
I believe in the magic of babies being born. the child said. The magic of seeds growing and of the sun rising.
No No. they said. Real magic, like pulling rabbits out of hats and stuff.
Of course.
How could I not believe in that sort of magic if I believed in the other?
/magic

--

Wait!
She called after him, holding up her hand as if to push him backwards from his front, hand pressed between his ribs. Only she was behind him.
Here.
She held out a small brown bag, it’s top crumpled into a handle.
You forgot this.
He took it from her and nodded conservatively, then continued on his way.
He was almost out of sight; soon to be swallowed by the double steel barred doors before she managed to bend the length of her fingers down, folding them down against the palm of her still outstretched, halting hand in farewell.
Her arm dropped to her side then, having lost its chance at a last goodbye, and she turned the key to start the ignition.
/first_day

--

“Did you ever think of a reason for living?”
“No,” she replied, hanging her eldest’s navy blue school uniform.
“Then why,” he stepped close, his breath upon her neck, gravelly voice on her ear, “are you still here?”
Stooping, she picked up the laundry basket and turned ‘round, so he had to back out of the way.
She shrugged and began folding her husband’s undershirts.
/just_because

--

the night it was shifting, slurring a little to the left and the lights in the water circled the globe of their case and Jimmy was laughing in his seniorly way and and the night it was dancing with the edge of my eye and the water and the rocks and the breeze it was blowing over the white/blue houses with their back doors opening to the most beautiful caldera in the world and I was there and that would have been three times too much as it was but the addition of life well we all like our drink and god it was gorgeous and I loved it and was perfectly perfectly white sound and joy
/santorini_nights